


Room 49

by trevo4folhas



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Murder and Suicide, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trevo4folhas/pseuds/trevo4folhas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo is starting his studies in Karakura's University of Medicine, and moved to a dorm room in a newly reopened area of his residency. However, he can't shake off the eerie feeling that something is terribly wrong in the room next to his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is what happens after someone reads too many creepypastas. I wanted to try writing something a bit more suspenseful (and scary, but I think I completely failed at that). This was also meant to be an one shot, but I felt that it was getting too long to just post it all in one chapter, so I divided it hoping that would make it a bit easier to read.
> 
> It contains some dark topics, mostly murder and suicide, with very few graphic descriptions here and there. I don't want to say much else so as not to spoil it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Footsteps echoed through the halls of Karakura University of Medicine's residencies, loud and undisguised in the otherwise lonely silence. Few students were dispersed through the dorm buildings, most of them at their entrances, smoking without anyone objecting to it. Funny how those young people studying to save lives seemed so unconcerned regarding their own health. Ichigo's own father was a doctor who used to smoke too, and when he or his younger sisters urged him to stop, his mother would chuckle before adding in her own settlement.

_“Blacksmith house, wooden spoon.”_

He smiled at the memory. All those years ago, moments like those seemed small and trivial, but now he relished them more than anything. It was a lesson life gave him early on – nothing is trivial.

His old friend Chad walked next to him, effortlessly carrying his own bags to their soon to be shared dorm. His presence never went unnoticed by anyone. He easily stood out with his tall height and dark skin, carrying himself with pride and a soothing presence. There were not many people Ichigo could settle with in comfortable silence without small talk getting forced in, but Chad and him had known each other for so long that keeping quiet didn't really matter. He was sure he could spend his entire life with his friend without ever getting tired of the company.

And he meant that in the most friendly, non romantic way possible, mind you.

They had made a point of being roommates, and because of that got sent to a recently reopened and therefore relatively unrequested corner of the campus that had been closed for renovations not too long ago. Although classes wouldn't start for another week, Chad wouldn't be around for the first fifteen days, having to make a trip to Mexico to clear something about his grandfather's inheritance or estate. The explanation Ichigo was given was a bit vague, but he didn't press it. His friend came today anyway to settle his things without hurry, and he was thankful enough for that. The first few days where everyone was a stranger were always the most awkward, and it was good to at least not move in on his own.

As they walked up to the fourth floor, a light dust started to fill the air. Some dorm doors were open as other students moved in, but none seemed to mind the clogged atmosphere. It looked as though the further up the building they went, the denser the dust got, likely from the fact the last floor had just been remodeled.

It was just a small annoyance anyway, nothing to make him consider a relocation. They had already carried their heavy bags for three floors, and Ichigo wasn't willing to do it all over again just to complain about the typical dirt. He barely noticed the flash of blue walking towards him at the last round of stairs until it was too late, making him trip on his own feet as he tried to avoid a collision.

When he looked back clumsily at what he barely dodged, he saw that the man he almost crashed against avoided him with ease, moving like a feline, and for a moment every step of his seemed to gracefully float more so than touch the ground.

By contrast, everything else about him screamed of abrasiveness, from the long legs and broad shoulders covered by black leather and studs, to the spiked blue hair that looked too loud to be real. Ichigo almost laughed at the character. He knew he was bound to find a few interesting looking people in a big University like this one, but that was a misscolored Billy Idol impression if he's ever seen one, as stuck in the punk-rock 80's as one could look.

Yet, ichigo didn't make a sound. He couldn't even smirk as blue eyes met his and the air suddenly felt that much colder.

“Ichigo?” Chad's voice brought him back to the present, having noticed the sudden distraction.

“Yeah... Let's go.” Ichigo nodded at his friend and moved, briefly glancing at the blue-haired man again to hear him snort, finding his icy eyes still fixed on him with a mocking smirk on his lips.

If his little distraction hadn't been so embarrassing, he would have snapped back at him.

“Did you know him?” Chad asked as they left the stairs and moved forward into an empty hallway, now carelessly dragging their bags behind them.

“Never saw him before.” Ichigo looked at each door, looking for the number 48.

“He's a memorable one.” The words made Ichigo chuckle, as he finally spotted their dorm room number.

Much like the rest of the floor, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the location of their soon to be second home. It stayed next to the end of the hall, being the second to last room of the fourth floor, which made it easy to remember. He unlocked the door and entered, seeing the interior for the first time.

“At least the windows are large. We need them with all this dust flying around.”

Ichigo commented. Two large windows showed the view to the campus' gardens, opening up an otherwise spartan room, with a small closet, two beds and a single desk for both of them. Dropping his bags by the side of one of the beds, he moved to a door adjacent to the wall, that lead to a small, almost claustrophobic bathroom. The shower and toilet barely seemed to fit the space, and the fact that division had no window was a sure promise of humidity.

 

Then again, neither of them had been expecting a five star suite. What they got was more than enough for them.

“Hey.” A stranger's voice called through their still open door, and the two boys looked to see a doleful looking blonde man. “You're moving here right? I'm from the student council, name is Izuro Kira.”

“Kurosaki Ichigo, Yasutora Chad.” Ichigo introduced himself, watching the blonde smile almost shyly.

“I'm checking on all the freshmen moving here, making sure everything is alright, or if you need something.”

“We're fine, thank you.” Ichigo answered. “So you're from this building?”

“Yeah. You're the first students I've seen on this floor yet. You should drop by the lounge room if you ever feel a bit isolated. Oh!” Kira added, retrieving some flyers and handing them to the two other men. “There's a student party tomorrow, if you want to drop by.”

“Thanks.” Ichigo took the flyer, a simple little thing with the location and time for aforementioned party, unsure if he wanted to go yet or just laze around for a bit. Unexpectedly, the blue-haired man he had seen before came to mind and urged him to say something. “We're really the only ones here yet? We crossed this guy on the way here. Blue hair, leather jacket?”

“Blue hair? Don't think I know anyone like that...” Kira replied, his voice seeming permanently solemn. “Might have been a new student too. Older ones try to avoid this place.”

“How come?” Ichigo frowned.

“Old urban legends... I thought maybe you knew about it, but you really shouldn't worry about them anyway. Thirty years ago or something there was a murder on the last room next to this one... And a few people who moved there after committed suicide too...” The blonde tensed at seeing Ichigo's and Chad's stunned expressions. “Students say it's haunted and some used to try to sneak in here on Halloween, but it's all urban legends. To be honest I never checked if those stories are real, and the University uses that room as a storage one anyway, so nobody gets assigned to it.”

“Don't worry about it.” Ichigo reassured him. “It's a bit morbid, but that's about it. I don't believe in ghosts or any of that.”

“People usually like to embellish things too.” Chad added, having kept quiet throughout the conversation.

“Exactly.” Kira nodded, seeming a lot more relaxed. “Anyway, like I said, if you need anything just ask for me at the reception. They'll let me know.”

“See you.” They said their farewells as the blond left to the hallway once again with a muffled cough.

Ichigo wordlessly went back to retrieving things from his bags, only stopping once he noticed Chad smirking at him.

“What?” He asked, his voice amused despite the frown on his features. “You know I don't believe stories like those.”

“That's not it.” Chad murmured, making Ichigo pause. For a few moments he only looked at him questioningly, but soon enough a red tinge spread through his cheeks.

“Shut up, I just wanted to know if that guy would be our neighbor or something.” He hadn't meant to look forward to seeing the blue-haired man again when he asked for him, but apparently Chad read his curiosity as such.

“Maybe he'll be at tomorrow's party?” The taller man offered, turning his back against Ichigo to hide his amusement.

“Very funny. Doesn't really matter.”

“Will you be going?”

“I'm not sure. I'd be going alone.”

“Then you could introduce me to some people you met when I get back.” Chad smiled.

“Right, leave all the work for me.” Ichigo chuckled.

Still, it was probably a good idea to go, blue-haired stranger there or not. Regardless of the party animal he wasn't and was unlikely to ever be, Ichigo was somewhat skeptical of the old stories of drunken college kids, fraternity initiations and all the stuff that was either too movie-like to be the norm or just plain shocking to tell. He was positive things weren't as wild as people made them out to be.

Without much thought, he made up his mind on going, hoping to meet up and socialize with some people before studies completely took over his time.

 

* * *

 

Life was a thing full of positive expectations, things you'd anticipate and place your bets on. Then there was the reality check to bring people back down to earth.

That hadn't exactly been an easy-going party. It was loud, surprisingly crowded for the small amount of students Ichigo had seen so far, and seemed to have an endless supply of booze, with a loud and boisterous red-headed man continuously encouraging people to “chug it all up” and get into drinking games.

It wasn't as though he wouldn't drink or participate, but he was either more responsible than he thought he was, or just a massive lightweight. As the acquaintances he made so far continued to drink and indulge, he was already feeling a familiar warmth spread through his limbs and warning him not to push it. The feeling of alcohol warming his skin always had the same two effects: one of making him extremely lazy, the other for causing a lot of bathroom trips.

The two were not in peaceful coexistence.

He left the room, closing the door behind him and feeling the rhythm of the music across the wooden surface before leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit. Sound traveled easily through the building, as he could attest to after just one night spent in it. He had stayed up late the previous evening, distracting himself with his laptop, and it seemed like the footsteps from the floors below were never ending.

Having lived with two younger sisters before meant that didn't really bother him too much. Those were sounds that were simple to tune out.

What hadn't been so easy to ignore was the screeching opening and closing sound of the next door's windows. The ones from the so-called haunted room.

Ichigo wasn't scared off by it. At his age and with basic common sense, it wasn't something that worried him too much, but he couldn't quite shake off the eerie feeling the noise gave him, most likely because he was completely alone in the entire floor, Chad having left earlier that day. It was around 3am when he decided to get off his bed and walk down to the neighboring door to close the damn thing and silence it for good.

The moment his hand rested on the door handle, the grinding sound of the window halted. His very instinct told him to get far away from Room 49, almost making him laugh to himself. He pushed that sensation back and turned the handle, only to find the door locked.

In any case the wind that likely caused the window to open and close seemed to have dwindled, leaving him once again in silence.

When he left the building to grab some breakfast at a nearby cafe the next morning, he looked up to see the windows of the storage room closed. Maybe someone had gone there before he woke up to take care of it, or maybe they just shut properly somewhere throughout the night. During the rest of the day he hadn’t thought of it, but as the time to go back to his room and rest was approaching, he felt something like unease at the prospect of having to deal with that again, on his own.

He was mostly hoping it'd be easier to fall asleep with all the alcohol in his system.

His thoughts were interrupted when someone sat down next to him, and he found himself staring into vibrant blue eyes again. His lips parted in surprise when he realized it was the same blue-haired man as before. He hadn't seen him since their first encounter, and hadn't really been searching for him at the party, but it was still somewhat nice to come across him.

Like other students he had seen, the blue-haired man had a lighter in his hand and a cigarette box in the other, pulling one out and offering it to Ichigo. Never having been a smoker, the freshman was almost tempted to accept the offer.

“No thanks.” At that, the man lit the cigarette and brought it to his own lips without insisting.

“You think you're gonna live long?” When Ichigo only frowned at him, he continued. “Heard you moved into the haunted room.”

“You _heard_?” Ichigo's frown deepened, not liking how quickly that information was being passed, however harmless it might have been. “The haunted room is the one next to mine.”

“Right, right.” The blue-haired man shrugged.“News travel fast around here.”

“What's your name?”

“Grimmjow. Don't comment on it.” The other added once he saw the curious look on Ichigo's face.

“I've heard weirder.”

“Oh.” Grimmjow snarled. “Thanks for the backhanded compliment.”

Ichigo only snorted, unconcerned at the reaction. He didn't intend on adding anything else about the foreign sounding name anyhow.

“You live in this building, don't you? I've seen you around.”

“Why do you want to know?” Grimmjow grinned, sharp teeth showing in a taunt. “You wanna take a trip to my bedroom?”

“Forget I asked...” Ichigo mumbled, not pleased with the implication.

“You should tell me your own name first. At the very least.” The other glanced at him, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke in entrancing swirls. “And buy me a coffee.”

“Right, I forgot. Kurosaki Ichigo.” He offered, ignoring the rest of Grimmjow's words and smirking. “Don't comment on it.”

“There are worse fruits out there.”

“Tsk.” He scoffed at the usual taunt that came with his name. It wasn't its actual meaning but Ichigo got tired of explaining himself over and over again. Strawberry, yes, he'd heard it before. No creativity points for Grimmjow.

“Didn't you have a roommate with you?”

“He's out for the rest of the week. You only get to meet me for now.” He answered.

“Oh, what a privilege.”

Ichigo wasn't even sure whether those words were flirtatious or plain sarcastic, but his hazed mind didn't really care.

“What are you studying?” He asked, more for the sake of small talk than actual curiosity, although the image of the man digging through corpses at an autopsy room didn't seem to be unfitting out of all the options he could think of.

Then again, what did he know of Grimmjow besides his looks? And they did say not to judge a book by its cover.

“Nothing relevant.”

“Is it such a big secret?” He frowned.

“Nah, just none of your business.”

Well, at least now he knew he was rude too.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn't answer any.” Ichigo snapped, standing up and still feeling drowsiness on his limbs from the alcohol. “I'm gonna get going.”

“Already? You're trying to run away from me?” The mocking on Grimmjow's voice was clear, making Ichigo snort at the words.

“Think highly of yourself, don't you?”

“It is what it is. You didn't even answer my coffee question.”

“You didn't ask me anything.” Ichigo frowned, having to pause for a moment to remember what the other was talking about, and feeling unsure whether to be annoyed or amused at his nerve. “You tried inviting yourself into coffee I never offered. Don't tell me you were serious then?”

“You're not very good at this flirting thing, are you, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow grinned. “I'm adding a muffin to the coffee for that.”

“It's not flirting, it's just you clearly wanting to get a free meal out of me.” It was barely a second after those words left Ichigo's mouth that Grimmjow's eyes darkened, his tongue brushing against his lips in a taunt.

Ichigo was reportedly oblivious to many things, many crushes, many advances. He wasn't oblivious to _that_ , however, and he was embarrassed to feel his cheeks heating up at the other man's nerve.

“Maybe if you're free tomorrow you can get me that coffee, and I'll tell you where my room is.”

“Look, I think there's a misunderstanding here...” Ichigo started, not wanting the other to assume he was up for anything. Yet, he was promptly interrupted.

“How's five?”

“What?”

“Five in the afternoon. I'll meet you up at the lounge room.”

Before Ichigo could object to it, Grimmjow stood up and opened the door, returning to the party and leaving the other outside in a dumbfounded state.

It was only after someone else left the room that Ichigo finally moved, blaming the drinks he had for his state of mind. He pushed the plans Grimmjow forced on both of them to the back of his mind and walked back to his room, one floor at a time.

He still had half a mind to curse the amount of stairs in the old building before reaching room 48 and fumbling with the keys until he managed to open the door and get inside. He collapsed into the bed right away, but sleep evaded him.

His body might have been tired, but his head sure wasn't. He didn't know for how long he laid spread on the sheets, staring at the dark ceiling until he heard the hinging of the storage room's window again.

“Fuck...” He mumbled, suddenly angry at the noise. The words Kira had told him on the day they met made their way back to his thoughts. Some students apparently thought it was funny to head there and scare each other, and it seemed as though now he was being the victim of those childish games.

As if he'd be the one to believe in ghost stories and old urban legends. Figuring they'd stop messing around if he ignored them, he stayed in his bed for a good twenty minutes, gritting his teeth in growing frustration, before finally getting up and heading out again.

Much like the previous night, the moment he touched the storage room's door handle, the noise stopped, and once again he twisted it to find the door locked.

His head was certainly getting clearer, but a haze still washed through him, dulling his instincts and the thundering beat of his heart. He knocked on the door, getting no response.

“Whatever you're doing in there, I'm trying to sleep, so shut it.”

Still no sound answered him.

“Oi, you must think this is funny? Keep it down or I'll call the receptionist to drag you out.”

Although his body was screaming at him to leave, Ichigo ignored the urge, thinking rationally. Annoyed at the lack of response, he knelt on the floor in front of the door, and leaned against it, trying to peek through the small keyhole.

It was his first time looking into the room, although it was too dark to see anything in great detail. There were a few boxes and chairs piled up in a corner, a couple of brooms and not much else that he could make out. However, the one thing that caught his attention were the windows through which the moonlight entered and lit the room.

They were closed.

He stared attentively, looking for any sign of movement to find nothing.

Suddenly, his vision got obstructed, as if something just stepped in front of the keyhole at the other side of the door, startling him. The two seconds it took for the image to become clear felt agonizingly slow, but when they passed, Ichigo clearly saw someone's eye, wide and meeting his own in an endless gaze.

The moment he realized what happened, he fell back to the floor, backing away until his back hit the corridor's wall – a dead end. He rushed back up, wanting to leave the floor as quickly as he could, but having nowhere to head to. As he hurried into his room, he felt as though his heart would pop out of his ribcage any moment.

Part of him tried to laugh, finding confirmation that someone had indeed locking himself inside to mess with him, but the chill in his body wouldn't leave. He went back to his bed wide-eyed and alarmed, unable to do anything but grasp the sheets, his entire being screaming at him that something was horribly wrong.

Just moments later, a new noise swam from the storage next door, this time much closer, like that of nails dragging through the wall that separated both divisions.

His own room didn't feel the least bit safe.


	2. Chapter 2

“You look like shit.”

It was five in the afternoon when Grimmjow got to the common room, just as he said he would. He was surprisingly punctual, but still, his manners hadn't improved any since the previous day.

Ichigo knew he looked bad, barely being able to sleep all night with the strangeness of his situation. When he had opened the closet that morning to see his reflection on the mirror that was fixed to it, he figured he shouldn't even bother trying to disguise his exhaustion. It was that evident.

His hair was damper than usual, and there were big bags under his eyes as a telltale sign he barely slept. Even so, with only the few hours of rest he got after the scratching noises finally stopped, he couldn't make himself indulge and sleep in for another minute. The moment the alarm clock rang, he was out of there, wanting to escape the atmosphere. Just a few more days and Chad would be back to keep him some company, but they seemed to go by way too slowly.

“Classes haven't started yet, you don't really have an excuse to look that exhausted.” Grimmjow continued. “Unless the ghosts are bothering you.”

Ichigo frowned at the mock, not finding anything funny about it. He wasn't about to admit something strange had been bothering him. Grimmjow was already relentless in his teasing without any help.

“Let's get this over with.” He mumbled. The blue-haired man looked genuinely scorned at the way Ichigo dismissed him, but said nothing as they made their way to a nearby cafe.

Ichigo wouldn't have thought Grimmjow to have much of a sweet tooth, but regardless, the other seemed to pick the fanciest and most expensive warm drink they had to offer without much consideration that someone else would have to pay for it. Maybe it was petty payback for the harsh greeting, and maybe he was even entitled to that.

Even if just a little.

He took a tray with both their orders and followed Grimmjow into a somewhat hidden booth, sitting down and warming his hands on his own coffee.

“You really look half dead, you know?” Grimmjow broke the silence, making Ichigo snort.

“Hungover.” He lied, sipping his coffee and hoping the conversation would die there.

“You didn't drink enough for a hungover like this. What's eating you?” Brown eyes widened at the other's perceptiveness. “Don't tell me it's really about ghosts.”

“Shut up... I don't believe in things I can't see.” He said, unsure if those words were more to Grimmjow or to himself.

“But you did see something, didn't you?”

“Are you trying to get somewhere?” Ichigo snapped, losing his appetite. Grimmjow wasn't just perceptive, it seemed as though his every word hit the target perfectly.

“I know about the noises.” Just as the other said that, Ichigo visibly tensed in his seat. “Believe it or not, that used to be my room.”

“You...” Brown eyes met bright blue, seeming awake for the first time in the day.

“Yeah, ages ago.”

“Are you trying to fuck with me?” Ichigo frowned, but the reaction only got a chuckle from the other man. “Is that why I only saw you at the residency once? Before the party, I mean. You were checking who was taking the room now?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, what is it to you?” Ichigo asked, hands back on his coffee to take a sip of the much too warm drink. It didn't matter, he had woken up. “It's not your room anymore so does it really matter how anyone else deals with it?”

“I just wanted to check it out one more time now that it got reopened, I didn't think I'd come across the guy who moved there. But now that I did... why not have some fun reminiscing?” Grimmjow leaned forward in his seat and smirked, his light expression seeming to contrast with Ichigo's unamused one.

“Hardly being fun for me...”

“You only been there for a few days.”

“Yeah, on my own. Didn't you have a roommate with you when you lived there?” Ichigo asked, knowing that pairing students up was the standard.

“I did.” Grimmjow stated, leaning back on his seat with an expression that darkened almost imperceptibly. Ichigo noticed it, but didn't press it, knowing sometimes roommates didn't get along that well.

“Then quit acting like you're better than me.” He groaned. “You had some company, while I have the whole floor to myself. It's different.”

“Is that so?” The blue-haired man asked, not missing a beat. “You want some company in there, is that it?”

“Don't even go there...” Ichigo mumbled, flustered. It was frustrating how easily Grimmjow could turn any situation into something flirtatious. With another sip of his drink, he tried to change the subject. “So how did you deal with it?”

“To be honest, I didn't sleep many nights in there.” The other smirked.

“Scared?” Ichigo teased.

“You know that wasn't it, Kurosaki.”

“And how did you figure it wasn't someone playing a prank on you?” Brown eyes glinted. He still hadn't discarded the possibility that someone was trying to mess with him. After all, that seemed a lot more believable than some damned soul lurking in the storage room next to his.

“It'd take a lot of dedication to spend hours locked in a room, scratching at walls.” Grimmjow pointed out, mentioning the type of noises he heard for the first time in their conversation.

The exact type Ichigo had listened to that very night.

“I'd say it takes a lot of dedication to pay a visit to your old dorm over a few noises too.”

“Trying to imply something over there, Kurosaki?”

Yes, he was. He couldn't lie to himself and say Grimmjow's behavior wasn't the least bit suspicious. He just so happened to meet Ichigo at his residency when he didn't even live in it, and he just happened to have been his room's previous owner too, practically dragging him to a cafe to talk about apparently oh-so-relatable paranormal nonsense?

Either the planets aligned and they had a fated encounter, or the man was full of shit. Ichigo was leaning towards the latter, but the memory of the eye that gazed back at him through the keyhole the previous night still made him question common sense.

“You tell me.” He finally said, not letting the other off the hook just yet.

Grimmjow stood from his seat, his smile gone from his face.

“Thanks for the...” He nodded at the drink he ordered. “whatever that was.”

“What is it, did the glove fit your hand, Grimmjow?” Ichigo spoke, making the other stop and look at him with unreadable eyes. After a moment of silence, he finally responded.

“You'll figure out it's not me eventually. But like you said, it doesn't matter. It's your problem now.” Grabbing his jacket, he turned around, pausing only one more time before finally leaving. “By the way, you still owe me a muffin. Maybe when you're not busy being a bitch.”

Ichigo bit back a groan, frown deep in his features. As if he'd ever want to pay more food to this guy as it was, let alone after being called a bitch. Grimmjow couldn't possibly be for real.

Still, he stayed at the cafe for a bit longer, sitting back in that comfortably secluded corner and thinking of his predicament. Logically, he was suspicious enough to make him think of it all being a sick joke, and even if Grimmjow's last words had been honest it was likely this was someone's elaborate prank anyway. The problem was the very _illogical_ feeling in his gut that kept telling him something was off about that entire floor.

He always heard stories of how people should never ignore their instincts, but he still couldn't bring himself to act upon them when the base of his discomfort was so unbelievable. Like Grimmjow had said, he'd only been around for a few days, but he was already eager for Chad to come back.

Looking at his phone's clock, he saw that barely an hour had passed since he met up with Grimmjow, and he stood up to get back to his residency building. He didn't want to go in there just yet, but there was something he had to get off his chest.

As he walked down the street, he passed by a small decoration shop, getting distracted by its showcase. His eyes landed on an old looking wind chime, and without thinking too much about what he was doing, he got inside and searched for something similar, if only a bit more discrete. He left it having purchased a small but noisy bell.

Ichigo almost laughed at his own plots, but if there was any way to catch his tormentors in the act, that would be it.

As he reached the building he now lived in, he approached the reception, where a middle-aged woman sat without paying attention to her surroundings, cat-eyed glasses propped on her nose as she licked her fingers to flip through another page of a gossip magazine.

“Excuse me.” He called, as the woman looked up from the pink pages to meet his eyes.

“Yes?” She croaked, folding a page to mark it.

“I live on the last floor. At night the storage room's windows keep banging with the wind, but the room is locked. I was wondering if you could open it to close them.”

“Right.” The woman sighed, opening the drawer of her desk and searching through an assembly of keys. “What's the door number?”

“49, I think.”

“You think?” She chuckled, finding what she was looking for and standing up from her seat. “Let's take a look then.”

If the woman's mood seemed momentously pleasant, it soon dropped after a few steps of the stairs. The building was rather old, so without any lifts the only way up was to walk through the four floors. It was tiresome for healthy students like him, but even worse for a woman her age.

When they finally reached the storage room, she opened the door and stepped inside without hesitation, while he stood at the doorway. With someone else next to him, the place seemed a lot less intimidating, but he still didn't want to get in there. He was lost in his thoughts until the lady looked back at him looking displeased.

“The windows are already locked.”

Brown eyes widened, and he finally took a proper look at the room in front of him. Much like what he had seen through the keyhole on the other night, there were only a few stacked boxes and chairs lying around, along with brooms and other seemingly unused cleaning utensils. The windows, as the woman had pointed out, seemed properly closed.

He looked carefully at the wall that separated the storage from his bedroom, looking for scratch marks or anything that could have caused the rasping noises he heard. There was nothing.

“Oh...” He faced the woman again, unsure of what to say. “Maybe it was the other room?”

If she had looked displeased then, she seemed downright annoyed now, and he could guess why. He had just made her walk up four flights of stairs for nothing, the suggestion that she'd have to go back down and climb back up with a different key was not very kind.

“I see what this is about. They've been feeding you ghost stories, haven't they?” She said, leaving the storage. Before she got to close the door, he held it open, pulling the small bell he bought earlier from his pocket and dangling it on the door knob from inside the room before shutting it again. The woman rolled her eyes at the action, but didn't make a move to stop him.

“You kids watch too many movies.” She mumbled, locking the door and heading back to the reception.

“I just figured if someone's trying to mess around I could catch them in the act like this.” Ichigo defended himself. “Thank you though, that helped.”

She only scoffed at his words as she descended, leaving him at his own dorm's door. He still had time to burn, but now oddly reassured, he saw no problems in spending it in his bed, with the laptop on his legs as usual.

Hours passed, and he only left his spot to get a sandwich from the reception's vending machine, still feeling sated from the large coffee he had that afternoon. He'd gotten a few emails, from his family, Chad and from a few other people he'd met. Finally things seemed to be carrying on with some kind of normalcy. The boisterous redhead from the party he'd gone to, Renji, messaged him insisting he'd drop by another one the following evening.

“ _bring booze_ ”, the email read, making Ichigo chuckle. That man might have been an airhead, but there was no denying he brought some fun to the place. He had a feeling they'd need that after exam season.

Then, the calm he was feeling shattered at his feet.

From the storage room next door, the distinct noise of a window closing and opening was heard, badly oiled hinges breaking the quiet of the night.

No sound was heard from the small bell he left on the door knob just a few hours earlier.

He rushed out of his bed and into the hallway once again, looking around him. There were no footsteps on the dusty floor, no sign of anyone's presence besides his own. He moved to the storage room's door, turning the door knob to find the door still locked, the clear sound of the bell he had left on the other side dangling with the movement.

There was no way someone had gotten inside unnoticed...

Suddenly everything felt cold. He didn't dare peek through he keyhole again, but even if he wanted to he felt himself frozen in his spot. He could see the warmth of his breath around his lips, showing the drop in temperature wasn't just his own mind playing tricks on him.

As always, the sound of the window had stopped the moment his hand found the door knob. However, he heard something else, the same scratching noise of the other night. This time though, it didn't drag itself across the wall, but slowly against the wooden door that separated them.

He barely realized he hit his back against the hallway again until he heard a soft whisper coming from inside the room.

“ _It's... him..._ ”

Ichigo didn't stay around to hear more. He didn't return to his bedroom. The soft murmur he heard crawled through his skin over and over again as he ran down the stairs and into the empty lounge room. It was a woman's voice, fragile and surreal and now stuck in his memory. He laid down on a large sofa, running his hands through his hair and listening to his heart beat restlessly against his chest, his own breath rushed and trembling.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo couldn't fall asleep, having spent the night in the lounge room's couch until someone else showed up to break the silence.

He couldn't shake off the experience, but as the hours passed he calmed himself down. The state of disbelief over what happened seemed to help, as everything was simply far too difficult to actually believe. Somewhere along the line he checked himself for a fever, figuring at some point he must have gotten delusional.

The only thing that reassured him was the previous day's talk with Grimmjow, who apparently had some sort of similar experience. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to contact the man. It seemed as though as far as he was concerned, you'd only really find him when he wanted you to. Ichigo couldn't bring himself to tell anyone else about it either, not wanting to start the year by being the superstitious weirdo.

“Oi, Ichigo!” A deep voice called, and he looked up to see a familiar face hovering above him from behind the couch.

“Renji...”

“Did you pass out on the couch last night?” The tall man laughed, seeming permanently in high spirits.

“You could say that...” Ichigo sat up, rubbing his face with a tired look.

“You're still going right?” Renji asked, his eyes looking a bit doubtful.

“Where?”

“To tonight's party, room 26.” He pressed.

“Sure...” Ichigo nodded, not really feeling like doing much of anything. Still, anything that kept him away from his dorm was welcome at that point, and honestly he still held some hopes that he'd come across Grimmjow again at the party. He'd pay him a bunch of those spicy, over-expensive drinks he ordered if it meant he could vent his frustrations to someone without feeling like a complete idiot.

Speaking of whom, maybe he could follow his example and spend the night in someone else's room.

Fuck, when had he turned into one of _those_ guys?

“Well, freshen up then!” Renji grinned, patting his back with too much force. “And don't forget--”

“Bring booze, yeah, I know.” he smiled.

As the taller man left him on his own again, Ichigo sighed and tried to motivate himself to move. Whether he liked it or not, he had everything in his room, including fresh clothes and a laptop, so he'd have to go back there eventually. It wouldn't take that long for Chad to get back on campus, and surely he could handle himself and his paranoia for ten measly days.

He tried not to over think, which was the key to getting things done, really, and made his way up to the fourth floor again, distracting himself with what to do for the rest of the day. When he finally reached his room, he found the door unlocked, and mentally berated himself for leaving everything so open in his panic. Luckily, as he got inside, nothing seemed to be missing.

He grabbed his backpack and shoved his laptop and charger in it, along with a notebook and pencil. Then he picked a fresh set of clothes and went to the small bathroom. Nothing was out of the ordinary as he took a shower, letting the warm water heat up more and more until it burned against his skin. The memory of that night's unnatural cold was still too fresh in his senses, and once again he got distracted by what had happened.

_It's him._

What did those words mean? Could there be more than one... person? entity? doing this to him? Were they trying to get to him, hence the scratching at the walls and the door that kept him separated?

He rushed out of the water and got dressed, not bothering with the towels left on the humid floor. He didn't want to think about what happened anymore. In fact he wanted nothing more than to run away from it, get another dorm and have the classes start so he could at least experience University as he intended to in the first place. This stress, this bad joke wasn't a part of it.

Opening his closet's door, he took a look at his reflection on the mirror, finding a tired looking man looking back at him. His bright hair popped out even more than usual with the paleness of his face.

Lovely.

He grabbed his backpack and took another glance at the mirror. His eyes widened when he realized it wasn't his dorm room that was reflected in the glassy surface.

Instead he found his image surrounded by piled up boxes and chairs, in the middle of a room with a layout identical to his own, but very much different.

It was the storage room. Ichigo couldn't tear his eyes away, feeling them burn as the air got caught in his throat. Then he saw her, on the corner of the storage room next to an open window that moved back and forth with the wind, petite and pale, with long black hair and a white dress that fell down to her knees.

Her eyes met his, and he recognized them in an instant.

He'd seen those eyes before, in the darkness, through a small hole.

Alarmed he looked back at his room, the same as always, returning to the mirror in a heartbeat to find the reflection back to normal.

Ichigo could barely breathe. His body moved automatically, repeating old habits as he put on his shoes in a hurry and left the room, jumping down the stairs in a hurry, grasping his backpack tightly against his shoulder.

As he exited the building, he remembered Kira's words when they first met. He didn't know exactly what had happened to start the urban legends, but he had mentioned a murder and suicides.

That wasn't enough. Ichigo needed to know more, and he would.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he had already arrived at the municipal library, unsure of where to start his searching. The receptionist was an old woman, staring intently at the computer screen in front of her, slowly pressing on the mouse in the telltale way people did when they weren't too experienced with technology.

“Excuse me,” He called, getting her attention. “I was wondering if you could help me. I wanted to read up on the University's history...”

“We have a small division dedicated to local history. There should be something about the University in there.” She promptly said with a smile on her face.

“Thank you but...” Ichigo went on, unsure how to make such a request. “It's about a murder case around thirty years ago?”

“A murder case?” The woman frowned.

“I was wondering if there were any newspaper reports on it.” He breathed out, hoping it wouldn't sound like a strange thing to ask. If it was, she made no sign of showing it.

“You can try to see the old newspaper archive on the last floor, but I'm afraid you need a special permission for those. Some of them are centuries old, so we have to be vigilant of who we let in there.” She explained, features softening upon noticing his disappointment.

“I see.” He muttered.

“I can send in a request for you, but it should take two or three days. Is that alright?”

“That would be really useful, thank you.” He bowed. Even though he came on a whim to find out as much as possible as quickly as possible, he would wait as long as it took if it meant he'd get some answers. His head was still throbbing from what he had seen, and he hadn't been able to collect himself quite yet.

That much was obvious when the old librarian handed him a permission form and he picked up a pen to find his hand violently trembling.

When he left, still feeling the need to occupy his mind with something, he grabbed his phone and dialed the first person that came to mind. After only a few rings, they finally answered.

“Hey, Ichigo.”

“Renji. What are you up to?” He asked, having a vague suspicion already.

“I was at the supermarket. Gotta get those plastic cups and drinks, you know?” The voice laughed from the other line.

“I'll meet you up there. I'm not doing anything all day, so I can give you a hand.” Ichigo said, already making his way to where the other was. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”

“Really? Thanks, man! I could use a hand or two.”

 

* * *

   
Helping out for Renji's party turned out to be mostly drinking, pushing furniture to the side, setting up a couple of tables, and drinking some more. The room they were setting wasn't so much a room as a suite, complete with a kitchen and a TV, presumably for those students that could buy their way into any University they wanted. It was completely different from his own spartan dorm, which made it perfect for the party animals of the student council, who somehow managed to get their hands on the best spots without much trouble (or the University's knowledge, he assumed.)

It did take his mind out of his problems though, even if just temporarily. Renji, Kira and their friends were a colorful collection of people who were surprisingly easy to get along with. There was Yumichika, a vain man with no shyness to show off, Ikkaku who insisted he wasn't bald and simply shaved his head, Matsumoto, a cheery and busty blonde who could outdrink them all, Shuhei who somewhere along the line decided tattooing a 69 on his face was a good idea, and many others... In all honesty Ichigo didn't have a good enough memory to remember all their names in one go.

Still, his eyes were searching the small crowd for one particular face, and as usual it was nowhere to be seen.

Ichigo was considerably more sober this time around, having kept a full stomach through the day – just in case things went south again - and standing by the so-called “designated drivers” spot with a few other people who, despite the generally good mood, still looked longingly at the beverages table.

He didn't stay there for long once he realized they entertained themselves with cigarettes given the absence of alcohol, and much like the previous party, he went outside to get some fresh air.

For once, his prayers were answered. As he leaned back against the wall he felt that same familiar presence as last time he went out, as Grimmjow approached him with his usual devious look.

“Do you come to every party, or is it just your sixth sense that tells you when to show up?” Ichigo asked, smiling at the other. Despite the events of earlier that day, seeing the blue-haired man was very much reassuring.

“If I tell you, it'll ruin the mystery.” He said, pulling a lighter from his pockets.

Of course Ichigo would get away from a bunch of smokers to find himself in the company of another one. He had half a mind to question the other man further on his habits, but it would have been a wasted effort.

He had other things to talk about.

“Have you ever seen her?” Ichigo asked, but the only response was a curious look from Grimmjow. He continued. “The girl, with the black hair and white dress.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Grimmjow answered, lighting a cigarette on his lips.

So he hadn't seen her. Then why did Ichigo?

“The ghost.” He felt silly just for saying that word. “When I looked into the wardrobe's mirror today, the reflection was of the next room. She was there too, at the corner.”

“So it's a chick hm? Maybe she fancies you.” Grimmjow chuckled, although Ichigo wasn't amused by it.

“How long did you live in there?” He asked once more.

“Around a semester.”

“And you never saw her in that entire time, but I did in just a few days?” Ichigo frowned, while Grimmjow just shrugged at his words.

"If you're seeing random chicks in the mirror I'm going to safely assume you don't think I'm the one sneaking back to the storage room every night to mess with you anymore.” Grimmjow snorted, his whole attitude frustratingly unconcerned. “I mean, you're cute and all, but not _that_ cute.”

What?

“Don't be an idiot. I'm sorry, alright?” Ichigo snapped, having been caught off guard. Implications being there or not, he could tell the word _cute_ had been dripping with mockery. “Maybe it isn't you, but I still don't see why you're so interested in it.”

“Got nothing better to do.”

“So that's all you're gonna say about it?” He pressed.

“What else do you want me to say?” Grimmjow growled, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke into the darkness.

“I just saw the thing that's making all the noise, I was expecting some sort of idea, or a suggestion.”

“Do I look like a Ghostbuster? You figure it out.” Lifting the cigarette to his lips again, he glanced at Ichigo. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, you might have just been seeing things.”

“I haven't slept _because_ I've been seeing things, not the reverse.” Ichigo snorted. “You're the only person I've talked to about this, if you're here to get a laugh just tell me now...” He hesitated before continuing. “But if you're not... Please help me out, I don't know what I'm supposed to do about this...”

Grimmjow only stared back quietly, looking unsure of what to say. It only took a few seconds for Ichigo to feel his face warm up, suddenly feeling very self conscious of what he said. Just as he was about to say something, the other man let out a loud, impatient sigh.

“Look, I don't know what to tell you. Move out, get an exorcist, quit University, I don't really care. I'm just here for our next coffee date.”

“So you came all the way here for free food, is that what you're saying?” Ichigo scowled, unconvinced.

“Something like that.”

“I went to the library today.” He continued, deciding to ignore the other's brashness. “To find out what happened at the dorms all those years back.”

“Found anything interesting?” Grimmjow asked, his cigarette forgotten and slowly burning away on his fingers.

“Nothing. They said it would take around three days for me to get a permit to see articles like those.” the blue-haired man snorted. “I was wondering if you knew anything, since you lived there before me.”

“I never looked it up. All I know is someone got murdered, then a bunch of people jumped off the window.” He explained, as Ichigo's frown deepened.

“They jumped off the window?” He was only told there were a few suicides, but at finding out how they were carried out he couldn't help but think back to the swinging noises of the windows of the storage room.

“All the way down.” Grimmjow smirked, his fingers gesturing a downfall. “I think five or six people did that before they figured they should close that room for good.”

“And how did you know all this?”

“I guess stories spread more easily back in my day.” He rubbed the cigarette on the floor, leaving it there unconcernedly. Ichigo however, couldn't brush off those words so easily.

“How old are you, exactly?”

Grimmjow paused, and that small hesitation left Ichigo feeling unsure. Finally, he smirked.

“You're over eighteen, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we're fine.” He left it at that, much to Ichigo's annoyance.

“The way you say it makes it sound like you should be the one paying me for coffee.”

“Don't go cramping my style, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow said, and despite everything the comment managed to pull a laugh from Ichigo's lips. “You're going back to that room tonight, aren't you?”

“Unless I find someone to lend me theirs.” He hadn't meant for the words to make any implication, but somehow the thought that they did wasn't completely adverse at the moment. Grimmjow glanced at him, the devious look constantly glinting on his eyes.

“Found anyone that'd do that yet?”

“You answer that.” Ichigo spoke, looking away from the other as he felt particularly awkward.

“Maybe if you had other motivations besides running away from your problems.”

“You're so helpful...” Ichigo frowned, expecting a laughter that never came.

“Man up, Kurosaki. I'm not borrowing my place to someone who's scared of ghosts.” Grimmjow said, eyes challenging.

It was easy for the other man to say that, it seemed that although they shared some of the same experiences as far as the haunting was concerned, Ichigo was still having it a lot worse than he had for some reason. He half suspected it to be because of how isolated he was on the top floor. When he and Chad got in the campus, they thought the rooms next to theirs would soon fill in, but it seemed as though students weren't very interested in being there at all.

At this point, Ichigo would even be thankful if anyone went there in a drunken dare or something like Kira had told him on his first day. He felt stupid enough as it was, he didn't need Grimmjow's patronizing words to make it worse.

“I really hit the lottery, huh?” Ichigo complained, frustrated at the fact the one person he could talk to about what he was experiencing seemed completely unsympathetic.

“The room isn't that bad.” Grimmjow chuckled.

“I wasn't talking about the room.” Ichigo groaned, glancing at the other man to see him raise a thin eyebrow at the comment.

“Anyway, I should get going.” Grimmjow said, nodding at the door that led to the party. “Maybe you should go back there and unwind some more. I don't want you being a pissbaby when you get me another coffee tomorrow.”

“What makes you think I'll get you any?”

“You still owe me a muffin, and I need something to chug it down with.” Grimmjow stated nonchalantly. “So I'll see you then at five again.”

The older man was already making his way down when Ichigo called for him with a scowl, and a hand halfway into the motion of flipping him off.

“Buy your own damn coffee.”

The other only grinned at the words before continuing on his way, and Ichigo figured he'd go back to the party to further distract himself.

He stayed there until the very end, when everyone was already drunk, tired, and heading back to their own dorms. Eventually he'd have to return to his as well, cursing the fact he couldn't find the nerve to get someone else to share their room with him. It wasn't as though he would be able to do that for a week in a row anyway, at least not without establishing a reputation he didn't want for himself so early on.

Yet, as he once more made his way onto the fourth floor, his instincts screamed at him to leave again. Even Renji, as drunk and oblivious as he usually was had asked him if something was wrong before he left.

It was only Grimmjow's challenging voice that made him swallow his panic and carry on. Ichigo couldn't let something as childish as this stop him from carrying on with his days.

When he finally reached his floor, he felt freezing air brush against his skin once again, aggressive and chilling, as he tried to brush it off the best he could. There was still some alcohol warming his blood, making the cold somewhat bearable. The further forward he walked, the better he could see his surroundings, a dizzying feeling finding its way into his head.

He was already trying hard not to turn back and run when he realized the storage room's door was open.

His blood froze in his veins, and he didn't dare approaching any further. Instead he looked behind him to realize he wasn't alone anymore.

At the end of the hallway, with inky black hair and a white dress was the same girl whose reflection he had seen at his closet's mirror, her gray eyes fixed on him as though there was nothing else around them. Unfortunately for him, there really wasn't.

Ichigo didn't notice he couldn't breathe until he took a big gasp, desperate to get air inside his lungs. She moved towards him, one step at a time, and the closer she got, the worse it became for him to stay conscious.

The hallways narrowed, and his vision tunneled to focus solely on her, blurring at the corners. Her movements seemed to glaze over space, blending with the background like vertigo. She kept walking, and he stood frozen in his place.

In his dazed mind, Ichigo could register his mouth opening, wanting to say something, wanting to scream and scare her off, but no sound dared come out of it. It was cold, so cold it felt like ice was spreading beneath his feet as his eyes met hers.

“Kurosaki!”

A loud voice called for him from the steps. Ichigo didn't know what happened. His entire surroundings were spinning so much that with a blink of an eye he couldn't see her anymore. Instead he fell back against the wall, his body suddenly being able to move again. However, he had never felt so exhausted in his life.

Where was she? His heart was restless, and his eyes roamed everywhere, searching for her. Was she behind him? Was she next to him?

His stupor only stopped once he felt two strong arms around him, pressing him against a larger body. Then his fatigue finally caught up with him. He looked up to find Grimmjow, staring down at him with his lips pressed tightly together.

“Kurosaki, are you alright?”

“Did you see her, Grimmjow?” Ichigo murmured, reaching up to grab the other man's arm, frowning at the contact.

“Let's get you to your room...” The blue-haired man said, but his words barely registered.

“Grimmjow...” Ichigo quietly said again, feeling his eyes heavy. “You're so cold...”

“What are you talking about, Kurosaki...” The other groaned, although the usually mischievous eyes now showed concern. “You're the one who's burning...”


	3. Chapter 3

When Ichigo woke up in his room again, he felt a familiar chill over his skin. He was laid on his bed, all his clothes from the previous night still on with the exception of his shoes, covered with a blanket that didn't do much to warm him up.

Still feeling that confusion one usually gets when they wake up, it took him a few seconds to realize he was not alone in his room. As he vaguely remembered the previous night's events, his head got progressively more alert. Looking to the side, he saw the window open, and leaning in it carelessly, looking down from the fourth floor of the residency was Grimmjow, seemingly unaware Ichigo was conscious again.

“You mind closing that?” Ichigo murmured, finding his voice raspy and his throat aching. “It's cold...”

“Look who's finally woken up from their nap.” Grimmjow spoke, leaving the window to close it and walking back to Ichigo's bed, sitting at its corner.

“What time is it?” Ichigo asked, noticing the sky outside was still dark.

“6am. Should be sunrise soon.” The other answered, his blue eyes searching Ichigo for something.

“You stayed here...”

“Yeah.”

A thousand questions came to Ichigo's mind, so much that he wasn't sure where to start.

“You saw her?”

“I saw something.” Grimmjow nodded.

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“How did you know I was in trouble? I thought you had left already...”

Grimmjow stayed oddly silent, as though he didn't know the answer to that question either. After a few long seconds he finally sighed and explained.

“I couldn't shake off the feeling something was wrong. Learned to trust my gut a long time ago, so I just... I had to come and see if you were alright.” He frowned as soon as those words left him. “Don't go around thinking much of it, got it?”

“Yeah...” Ichigo smiled, his limbs still numb as he sat up and looked around. “Is the storage room's door still open?”

“I closed it again.”

“Did you just go there in the middle of the night?” Ichigo frowned. He didn't know why that upset him so much – he was positive he should feel thankful Grimmjow closed the door above anything else – but the thought that the other man went there on his own and unprotected bothered him more than he thought it would.

“You're welcome, Kurosaki.” Grimmjow groaned.

“And during the night...” Ichigo continued. “Did you hear anything else? Any noises?”

“Everything was quiet.” The blue-haired man said. “Just you snoring.”

Ichigo rubbed his face in his hands, not knowing what to think of what happened. Was Grimmjow telling the truth? Had nothing really happened while he was there?

He glanced at the other man, who left the bed to look around the room, blue eyes searching the desk curiously. As he moved closer to it, his hands roamed through all the little things Ichigo had there, before falling on a battered set of headphones that he then put on his ears.

When Ichigo saw him looking for the player, he nodded in it's direction, watching Grimmjow pick up his ipod with a curious look and turning it on. Then he looked up for his backpack, finding it settled down next to the bed. Taking his laptop from it, Ichigo mentally calculated the time zone difference between Japan and Mexico, figuring now was as good a time as any to call Chad.

He couldn't stay quiet about what happened anymore. He had to tell his friend.

He waited for his laptop to turn on to make the other a video call, seeing Grimmjow twist his nose at his music selection from the corner of his eye. When it did, Ichigo contacted Chad without wasting another second. He didn't care that he wasn't alone, didn't care that he sounded stupid, didn't even care that he looked like shit.

The moment the Mexican man answered him, he started telling him everything.

He told him about the noises, about how the windows opened and closed next door, the same windows many students had apparently jumped out of. He told him about the scratching at the walls, the eye gazing at him from the storage room's keyhole, about how he tried to make sure he wasn't being pranked only to find everything inexplicably supernatural.

He spoke about Grimmjow, who stood silently in his bedroom, distracting himself with his ipod, and about how he got to him and apparently scared the woman's apparition away. When Ichigo was done, Chad stayed silent and visibly surprised, but it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders nonetheless.

“And that's how I've been. How about you?” Ichigo broke the silence, chuckling when he saw his friend opening and closing his mouth like a fish through the video chat.

“You're not alone there, are you?” Chad finally spoke.

“Grimmjow's here right now. I'll be going back to the library as soon as they grant me access to the newspapers.” He explained, trying to reassure the other man.

“Ichigo, why don't you ask for a room change? You know I won't mind.”

“I would have felt stupid before telling you about it...” He murmured. “It still feels that way to be honest. But while Grimmjow was here with me, we didn't hear any sound, so maybe it's just when I'm alone that it happens.”

“Even so, you should start requesting for a change now.” Chad insisted.

“Yeah.” Despite the suggestion, Ichigo didn't feel very reassured by moving out. “But when I got there the storage room's door was open. If she could open that, what's stopping her from walking down the stairs and following me around?”

“Maybe she has to stay close to the room.” His friend suggested.

Ichigo's eyes fell on Grimmjow, who had his back turned to him. The first rays of sunlight were finally making their way inside.

“Maybe.” He nodded. “I'll ask for a new room today, but it should take a few days for them to find another one. And to be honest, I kinda like the people I've met in this building.”

“Try not to find yourself alone then.” Chad said, never one for many words.

“I'll try.” Ichigo smiled. “I'll get going now. Don't really feel like spending much longer in here.”

Ending the call, he looked back at his company to find Grimmjow staring at him with the headphones now off.

“What?”

“I'm hungry.”

“Did you stay up all night?” Ichigo questioned. “Aren't you tired at all?”

“I'm fine, just hungry.”

“Don't you have a job?”

“Called in sick.”

“Why?”

“Why don't you throw a guess, sleeping beauty?” Grimmjow snarled, annoyed at the questioning.

“It's still too early. The cafe shouldn't be open yet.”

“So go shower and get dressed, and by the time you're done it will be.”

Despite the frown that once again found its way into his features, Ichigo did as he was suggested, still hesitant about going into the bathroom on his own. Yet, there was no way he was about to ask the other man to join him, so he sucked it up, mildly reassured by the fact that if anything were to happen, Grimmjow would be only a few footsteps away.

However brash and rude the other man was, he had been kind enough to watch out for him during those harsh hours, and Ichigo was endlessly thankful for that. Finishing the shower, he left the bathroom and got dressed, deliberately trying to avoid looking at the mirrors after the previous day's less than pleasant experience. By contrast, Grimmjow unabashedly stared at him with an appreciative face. Ichigo didn't comment on it, starting to get used to the other's straight forward attitude. Packing his laptop into his backpack again, he made his way out of the dorm, cautiously looking at the hallway before moving.

“Wuss.” Grimmjow mocked, although it didn't grant him any response from Ichigo.

“What time is it now?”

“Almost eight. I thought you'd never shut up with your friend on the line.”

“It's not like there's much else to do at this time.” Ichigo scoffed, as they slowly made their way to the cafe, trying to burn time. “You still haven't told me how much you've seen last night.”

“I saw a silhouette of someone, but one second it was there and the other it was gone.” Grimmjow explained. “I was kind of distracted by the fact you were also there, looking like death.”

“It was weird.” Ichigo looked at him. “The closer she got to me, the more it felt like everything was spinning, like I was free falling somewhere...”

“Free falling, huh?” The older man commented, seemingly thinking alike.

“You think she could have been one of the students who committed suicide by jumping?” He asked.

“Maybe.”

“What about the murder?”

“What about it?” Grimmjow frowned.

“I'm no expert, but shouldn't lost souls or whatever be more pissed at getting murdered than at killing themselves?” Ichigo asked, noticing the unimpressed expression on the other's face. “What I'm trying to say is, suicide is still someone's decision... but a murder implies someone else taking something from you... I'm not explaining myself right...” he mumbled.

“You're saying a ghost is more likely to be pissed and haunt everyone for getting killed by someone than for killing themselves.”

“More or less...”

“You don't know the murder details though.” Grimmjow said, and Ichigo looked at him with a serious face. “The victim could have been thrown off the window or something. Besides, it's not like people don't deserve some haunting if they made someone miserable enough to off themselves.”

“Yeah.” Ichigo sighed. “I can only really say anything after checking the newspapers at the library. Nobody seems to know anything around here.”

“Was that a dig at me?” Grimmjow asked in mock offense, getting a smile in return.

They had to wait at the cafe's door for a further ten minutes before the establishment opened, the smell of fresh drinks and baking goods filling their senses.

Much like the other day, they sat at the same well hidden booth with their orders, a dark coffee and muffin for both of them, courtesy of Ichigo's wallet. For once, he didn't mind it, already feeling like he owed the other man for staying with him through the night.

“Your first classes start tomorrow, don't they?” Grimmjow broke the silence, taking a big chump of his breakfast.

“Yeah. Should get library access tomorrow too. Bad timing, huh?” Ichigo chuckled. He would have rather taken his time looking through the newspapers and figuring out as much as possible.

“I wouldn't worry too much about it. The first classes are always introductory. They end early, because the teachers can't really be assed about it.”

“How would you know that? I thought you got out of University a long time ago.” Ichigo asked. In the corner of his mind he still wondered if he could get the other man's age, one question at a time.

“Ask anyone else you know there and they'll tell you the same thing.” Grimmjow said, not taking the bait.

That was alright, Ichigo wasn't that easy of a quitter.

“Don't people think it's weird that an old man like you spends so much time around University kids?”

“Bless my youthful looks. Why, Kurosaki? Does that bother you?” The older man taunted.

“Maybe. But you really don't look much older than me, so why don't you just tell me your age?” He pressed.

“Funny, they used to tell me I looked older than I really was back in the day. You'll figure it out eventually, stop nagging me with your probing.” Grimmjow scowled, taking a deep sip from his drink.

“So am I supposed to do detective work to get to know you?” Ichigo frowned.

“Consider it practice for the little ghost story mystery you're dealing with.”

They didn't say much more after that, finishing their breakfast and leaving the cafe unsure of what else to do. After walking for a few minutes, Grimmjow said he would be heading home for a nap, figuring Ichigo would be fine on his own as long as he stayed away from the dorm room.

Ichigo had half a mind to ask the other to spend the night with him when that time came, but he couldn't find it in him to actually say it out loud. He thought it wasn't a farfetched request, seeing as the other man knew firsthand what had been happening to him while he was alone, but it was still far too embarrassing for him to be in such a vulnerable place.

Ichigo was used to be the one doing the protecting, not the one needing it, and he wasn't sure how to cope with that foreign feeling just yet. He spent the rest of the morning looking up news of the University's murders on the internet, but there was barely any in depth information about it. It looked as though the University wanted to keep the events quiet, so as not to attract negative attention to itself, after all not many people would choose to go there if they knew it was a murder/suicide site.

After a small lunch, he called his sisters back home, checking over everyone he knew back there. He didn't share his recent experiences with anyone else but Chad, not wanting his friends and family to either laugh at him or worry too much. His father especially was sure to make a scene if he found out how Ichigo had been dealing.

Still, people noticed the exhaustion. Even though he felt considerably better after last night's sleep and a filling meal, there were still heavy bags under his eyes giving him away. When anyone asked, the excuse was ready at the tip of his tongue: parties. Lots of parties.

Because University changed people, even those who like Ichigo had never been too wild or outgoing. Or so they said.

Without much else to do, he returned to his residency's lounge room, stopping in his tracks when he saw the same lady at the reception. He wasn't very subtle, seeing as she noticed him looking at her indecisively.

“What's wrong?” She asked, her name tag reading _Okazami_.

“Well...” Ichigo hesitated. “When I got to my dorm last night, the storage room door was open.”

The woman frowned, opening the drawer and looking through the keys.

“Room 49, wasn't it?” She asked, looking back at him. “The key is here, and I lock this drawer every night, so nobody could have gotten it. I heard you kids were having a party that day, maybe you drank a bit too much?”

Ichigo didn't press it, knowing it would be no use to bother her with it. Yet, he couldn't help asking for a little more information.

“The stories people have told me so far, do you happen to know anything about them?”

“Ah, the suicides.” She frowned, the topic seemingly not to her liking. Ichigo couldn't blame her for it, but curiosity got in the way of courtesy. “I worked here already at the time of the last two.”

“When were they?”

“The last one was around ten years ago.” She said, her finger on her chin as if she was trying to remember accurately. “After that they closed the floor to avoid complaints.”

“Ten years?...” Ichigo muttered. Grimmjow had told him he lived in his dorm, and seemed very hesitant to tell him his age. Yet, ten years seemed way too old for his appearance. Just how old was he exactly? He brushed the thoughts away, trying to dig in further. “What about the murder?”

“You have a few morbid interests, boy... Have your friends been filling your head with stories? They seem to enjoy doing that too much...” Miss Okazami mumbled. “I know about it, it happened a bit after the first suicide.”

Ichigo's eyes widened. So the catalyst had really been a student's suicide. Noticing the change in his expression, the receptionist, continued, waving her hands in dismissal.

“That's all I know. It's not the type of thing people like to ask about. And neither should you be so interested in it.”

“Thank you for telling me so much already.” He courtly bowed. “I just wanted to know since I live alone on that floor.”

“Not feeling comfortable?” Miss Okazami asked, looking at him attentively.

“I'm thinking of asking for a room change. They don't happen to have any free one here, do they?”

“They have many on your floor, but I suppose you don't want that one.” She said, and he nodded, watching as she took a large folder from under the desk and went through the student's list. After a few minutes, she spoke again. “There's a student without a roommate on room 15, if you'd like that.”

Ichigo shook his head, thanking her regardless. The entire reason he chose the last floor was so he could pair with Chad. Moving in with someone else was out of the question.

He'd have to check at the Administration of the University and hope for the best. He headed there right away, figuring that the sooner he handled that the sooner he'd get that issue off his chest, trying to stay positive despite the discouraging looks the University staff gave him once he explained what he was looking for. Naturally, as classes steadily approached, students were finally starting to fill in the campus and occupying most of the rooms available.

Ichigo hoped he could at least get a break after all the bad luck he got so far, but the odds seemed staked against him. He couldn't actually leave Chad to find a place on his own, but damn him if he wasn't considering it just to get away from room 49.

He returned to his residency's lounge room later, entertaining himself with nonsense browsing and triple checking his timetables for the following day, trying to do anything to occupy his mind with. Students got in and out of the building regularly, chatting away and filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.

Ichigo was starting to feel more at ease in the space, when a loud thud was heard outside, followed by loud screams.

Miss Okazami rushed outside, and he followed, only to find a sight that made him want to throw up.

Students outside yelled and cried at what happened, and a loud scream came from a third floor's window. Ichigo looked up, trembling, to find a woman crying and being held back by other students.

Splattered in the concrete in front of him was the body of a young female student, who lived in the dorm room the open window belonged to. He remembered her, a small, quiet but kind girl named Hinamori.

Even with the height of the buiding, he could still hear her roommate's desperate cries.

“She just jumped!”

  

* * *

  

Ichigo spent the night on the lounge room, not bothering to eat as all the contents of his stomach soon made their way out. He cursed at himself for forgetting to ask Grimmjow for his contact earlier that day, because if before he still shied away of asking him for company, he sure as hell wasn't feeling timid about it now.

Himanori Momo had always been a happy girl, her suicide catching everyone off guard as there hadn't been any sign that could have led into something like that happening. However, nobody was as disturbed as Ichigo.

To him, the air felt as thought it was draining his very energy. Hinamori lived on a different floor to his own, the third one, room 38. It was the room directly under his.

It was clear, especially after having asked for a dorm reassignment, that in the end it wouldn't make a difference where he was. The spirit could open the door of the storage room, and it could move wherever it wanted, torment whoever it felt like.

The despair of his situation hit him hard. He couldn't run away from it, couldn't escape to anywhere safe, simply because there was no such thing. The mood of the whole residency seemed endlessly solemn. Nothing like that had happened in ten years, nobody was prepared to see the broken body of their friend on the floor, blood splattered against white walls.

Ichigo sat there after writing Chad an email to let him know what happened, scratching his legs until morning came, still unable to hold any food in his stomach. He went to his first class of the year without his books, not daring to go back to his room to pick them up. Like Grimmjow had said, it ended early, with his professor only introducing himself and telling the students what they would be studying that year, as well as handing them a list of necessary supplies for the next class.

To be honest, the man's words went in through one ear and rushed out from the other. Ichigo barely heard a word, and judging from the quiet gossip of students and down-turned faces, he was not the only one.

Then his phone rang, an unknown number he was hesitant to answer. It was from the library, letting him know his permission had been granted and that he had eight useful days to consult the archive. It didn't take him a second thought to skip the next class and head straight there. He wouldn't pay attention to it anyway, so it would be better not to waste any more time.

As he got there, the old lady at the front desk smiled at him in recognition and handed him a key to the archive, and a small paper to sign. When he entered said room, he found stack after stack of newspapers piled up on each other, strictly organized in chronological order. He had to walk for a while until he reached the area dedicated to the 1980's, trying not to feel discouraged at the sheer amount of documents he'd have to go through to find what he wanted.

Lunch had already long passed when he finally found something pertinent – a small local newspaper's front page article on the campus murder. The title, in large and bolded letters read “ **Daughter of famed entrepreneur murdered at Karakura's University of Medicine** ”.

Ichigo let his eyes fall to the article.

_“Kuchiki Rukia found dead at 22, viciously murdered at a dorm room. The killer is yet unidentified and on the loose.”_

He frowned, finding no photos in the article, but taking notes of a few excerpts.

_“An end of semester celebration served as an alibi for most students, unfortunately meaning there are no witnesses to the crime to help the ongoing investigation.”_

_“The young woman was violently beaten, reportedly having been slammed repeatedly by the dorm room's window before being thrown down from the fourth floor.”_

_“Everything on how the murder was carried seems to indicate it was personally motivated – states Police Chief Yamamoto.”_

Although he knew a murder was never pretty, the graphic descriptions of the crime got to him more than he would have liked. As he read on, another excerpt got his attention.

_“The motivations for the crime are still unknown, although authorities are suspecting the possibility of it being related to her family name and status as one of the heirs to the Kuchiki fortune, along with her older brother, Kuchiki Byakuya. The incident however, happens mere days after the suicide of a male student, whose name is undisclosed at the request of his family, at the same location.”_

Ichigo froze.

A male student was the first suicide? His heart beat faster. Regardless of how dazed or blurred his vision got when he saw the ominous figure that tormented him, he had no doubt that it had been a woman. He looked back at the name he wrote down.

Kuchiki Rukia, 22 years old in 1986.

Immediately he took note to find the old University's records, unsure on how to get his hands on them but determined to do so regardless. He wanted to see her photo, anything just to confirm whether or not it was her he saw.

All in due time, however. He kept going through the newspapers, searching previous dates to find anything regarding the first suicide, not having much luck. Without finding anything within a reasonably close date to the murder, he went on forward, finally spotting a small article squeezed in in another newspaper's last page.

“ **Classes canceled at Karakura's University of Medicine after second suicide within campus** ”.

“ _All activities to have a week long suspension in order for the suicide and murder investigation to operate undisturbed. The victim is an undisclosed male student, who quietly committed suicide at the same location of Kuchiki Rukia's murder, the 49th room of the Fourth floor, using a small pocket knife with which he tore his stomach open._ ”

Ichigo paused his reading, a headache already forming.

“ _Head of the student council and friend of the tragically deceased male student, Shawlong Koufang chose not to comment on the situation, instead asking for a respectful silence, and for students and media alike to hold back their speculations, referring to arising suspicious of a connection between the two tragedies._ ”

Grabbing his pencil, Ichigo wrote the second name down.

Without knowing the exact distance or number of suicides that had happened since the first one had occurred, it was difficult to find all the information he wanted, but after reading about three others, he had a feeling the rest wouldn't be much more different.

They were all the same – students moved in to dorm room number 49 without any history of depression or mental problems, and after some period of time they would jump out of the window and into their deaths. He couldn't stop thinking of Hinamori, how quickly she was made to jump by whatever force was involved in the suicides, and how it happened in a different room than the usual.

Grimmjow had heard a few noises, but otherwise he didn't seem to have had the amount of problems Ichigo was dealing with, so he couldn't help but question what exactly made him so special that he had to get such a punishment.

After hours rummaging through articles, the old receptionist had to call him to leave, as the archive's visiting hours had already passed, and Ichigo left the library to find out night had already fallen outside.

When he reached his residency, sitting on the lounge room's couch waiting for him was Grimmjow.

“Thought you'd never come.” He greeted, lifting his hand to show a small pastry box.

“What are you doing here?” Ichigo said, tired as he approached the couch and noticed that besides the pastry box was a plastic coffee cup.

“Heard some kid jumped off the window.” Grimmjow answered, patting the spot next to where he was sitting and handing Ichigo the cup.

“Why are you doing this?” The younger man asked as he sat down and took the drink, feeling the plastic already cold against his fingers. How long had Grimmjow been waiting for him?

“Maybe I didn't want you jumping too. The coffee is cold but I figure you'd like chocolate anyway.” He said, pointing at the pastries.

“Thanks.” Ichigo took a bite of a brown muffin, having some solid food in his stomach for the first time in the day without feeling like puking it out right away.

“Where have you been?” Grimmjow asked, watching the other eat.

“Library.” Came the muffled answer. “Finally got the permit.” Swallowing his food, Ichigo reached for his backpack and pulled out a stack of photocopies and notes he took, which Grimmjow promptly took from his hands.

“Interesting...”

“That girl, Kuchiki Rukia,” Ichigo started, pointing at an article he copied. “She's the murdered girl. The first suicide was a male though.”

“So?”

“So, the person I've been seeing was a girl. Might be her.”

“You found any pictures of her yet?” Grimmjow asked, a frown deep on his features.

“No, I'll take care of it tomorrow. It took me hours just to come across these.” Ichigo said, studying the other's face. He didn't know what to make of it. “You don't seem terribly interested.”

“It's all great, but so what? Even if you find out who's fucking with you, what are you going to do about it?”

After all the trouble Ichigo went through with his research, hearing those negative words angered him.

“So what am I supposed to do? I have to start somewhere! It's not like I can run away from it.”

“You asked for a relocation yet?” Grimmjow frowned.

“I did, but it's no use. The girl who jumped today... she jumped from the room right under mine. The ghost is telling me that it doesn't matter where I go to, I can't escape it.”

“Still the same residency. Maybe if you move buildings it'll stop.” The blue-haired man offered.

“Doubt it.” Ichigo murmured.

“Then what, you're planning on sleeping at the lounge room every night now?”

“It's not like you're offering me a bed, is it?” Ichigo gritted his teeth. “Better here than somewhere with windows.”

“This other guy...” Grimmjow continued, pointing at another article which Ichigo saw to be of the second suicide. “It says here he killed himself with a pocket knife. What makes you think they can't just kill you some other way while you're down here?”

“I'll take my chances...” Ichigo murmured, not feeling at ease with his situation.

They stood in silence for a while before Grimmjow moved to get up with a frown. Without thinking, Ichigo grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, brown eyes meeting blue.

“Stay with me.” He asked, watching as the older man met his eyes, apparently thinking whether he should indulge him or not.

Finally, he seemed to decide against leaving, and settled back down on the couch, turning towards Ichigo, whose hand was still wrapped around his clothed arm. Suddenly it felt like nothing mattered, not his surroundings, not the fear of rejection, none of the endless possibilities of how everything could take a wrong turn and worsen his day. Ichigo leaned forward, slowly, to press his lips against the other man's cold ones, resting them there before pulling back and opening his eyes.

Grimmjow looked almost mournful at the gesture, but before Ichigo got to question what he did, the older man closed the distance between them one more time, pressing harder and almost needy into that warmth.

“Thank you.” Ichigo murmured against those freezing lips, before feeling his eyelids abnormally heavy.


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up he was once again alone in the lounge room's couch. As he sat up he noticed a few students he hadn't seen before looking at him disapprovingly, probably because he was getting the habit of taking over the couch for himself. He noticed a small post it falling to the floor as he moved, picking it up to find a small note on a calligraphy he hadn't seen before.

“ _13.00 here, your turn to bring food._ ”

At least the note itself gave away who wrote it in a heartbeat. He looked at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was already 8.30 and time for his first class of the day. Hadn't Grimmjow told him to meet up at such an early hour, Ichigo would have skipped it and went straight to the University's files to look for the murdered student. As it was, he didn't want to lose track of time as he usually would, and miss their meeting.

Especially not after kissing the man. Ichigo blushed at the memory, annoyed at himself for thoughtlessly doing something so stupid. Yet, it seemed things went well for him this once. Even the night of sleep had felt better than the usual. Save for a little back pain here and there for staying on a couch, he felt more rested than he had the whole week.

“Ichigo!” It was Renji's voice that caught his attention then.

“Hey.”

“Been sleeping on the couch, hein?” He said, although his eyes were sympathetic and a comforting hand rested on his shoulder. Most of the students knew about the little horror stories of his floor, but after Hinamori's suicide nobody wanted to think about them, nor did they blame Ichigo for staying far away from his floor. Renji in particular had been one of the students who knew her the longest, and his usually loud and cheery character dimmed considerably after what happened.

“It's a second home, really...” Ichigo said, looking at the empty bakery box and cups left on the coffee table in front of him. He really had taken over the space.

“Matsumoto said you had some company last night.” Renji smirked, making Ichigo blush again.

“I didn't see her.” He replied, looking away and hoping the talk would end there.

“I know you didn't.” The other chuckled. “Didn't know you swung that way, but he must be quite the looker if she's to be trusted.”

Nope, this was not a conversation he wanted to be having.

“I should be heading to class...”

“Ah, the freshmen life. You won't be so eager to get in those in a few weeks.” Renji smirked.

“I don't think I'll have a choice by then.” Ichigo commented, picking his backpack and the trash that had been left there from the previous night. “I'll see you later though.”

“See you.” The redhair nodded.

For once, the class he had wasn't just introductory. Instead, his new professor spent the monstrous four hours of its duration talking about basic medical principles and urging students to take notes, actually extending his speech some extra and painfully long minutes after the class had ended.

Ichigo looked at the clock as he left, cursing himself when he saw he should be meeting up with Grimmjow already. In his hurry, he didn't have time to be very selective with their choice of meal. Two vending machine sandwiches and packs of juice would have to do, as he rushed to his residency to see the other man impatiently staring at the door.

Sitting next to him and trying not to let his face heat up, he threw a sandwich and juice box at Grimmjow's lap, who stared at the meal with an unimpressed look on his face.

“At least I tried to get something you'd like last night.” He complained.

“I didn't have a lot of time. Also you should talk to other people before agreeing on a good time to meet.” Ichigo reprimanded. “Not just leave notes around and expect me to fit my schedule to yours.”

“And yet, here you are.” Grimmjow pointed out, making the other scoff. Despite his protests, he was already biting into his food.

“So. What did you want?” Ichigo asked, doing the same.

“Was wondering when was the last time you slept in your dorm room.”

“Does it matter?” The question made Grimmjow smirk, his hand reaching for Ichigo's thigh.

“It'd be nice to sleep in a bed.”

“I'm sure you have one waiting for you at home.” Ichigo groaned, his eyes now looking at his surroundings with great interest. Much to his dismay, he could already feel his face heating up.

“I thought we'd made some progress.” Grimmjow continued, his voice low as he leaned forward towards Ichigo, breath raising goosebumps on the uncovered skin of his neck.

“Progress is one thing, the finish line is another.” The younger man murmured, not enjoying the public display.

“I can make you finish slow if that's what you want...”

“Grimmjow!” Ichigo snapped, slapping the hand out of his thigh as the other laughed loudly at the reaction. “If you think that makes me want to go back up there, think again!”

“Can't blame me for trying, Kurosaki. I'm starting to get some second hand embarrassment from seeing you drool on everyone's seat every day.”

Ichigo followed the other's blue eyes to find a wet spot on the couch, his hands immediately going to his face in shame.

“Look, I have things to do, so if you don't want anything...” He started, being promptly interrupted.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to find student records from 1986 or before. I just want to check if who I saw was Kuchiki Rukia.” Ichigo sighed, unsure of what to do regarding the next part. “And I need to find a man who was at the student council around that time too.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Grimmjow questioned.

“For the records, I'll try the Administration. Not sure what to do about the other man...”

“If he was a student back then, he must be pretty old by now. You should try checking his name on phone lists, it might still be in use.” Grimmjow suggested.

“People stopped using those years ago.”

“Like I said, he's old, his name might still show up in one of those.” He insisted, and Ichigo nodded. It was worth a try. “I can try to find one of those while you get the archives.”

“You would?” Ichigo couldn't hide the surprise. “That'd be great.”

“You're skipping classes for that?” He teased.

“I'll think about those when I get rid of my current problem. How about you?”

“I can take care of it now. We'll meet up here after we're both done.” Ichigo nodded in agreement, and both of them stood up, making their ways towards different directions.

He didn't know where Grimmjow intended to find a phone list on such short notice, but he inevitably realized he trusted him enough to be confident he'd do it. As for himself, he didn't even have to leave the area. The Administrative zone stayed near the University's main building where most of the classes were taken, and not too far away from the main reception and cafeteria.

As lunch hour just ended and classes started, he found the Administration empty and about to open. So far, he had gotten lucky in his day. He hoped that didn't mean it would all go drastically downhill later on, barely allowing himself to stay positive.

After a short wait, a man opened the door with a polite nod, letting Ichigo in.

“So how can I help you?” He asked, sitting behind his desk.

“I was wondering if I could get some student records from a few years back.” Ichigo explained, a straight to the point approach that didn't seem to do much for him. The man simply stared back at him, unmoving as though the request was completely ridiculous. “From the 80's, really, a long time ago.” He specified, trying not to sound too anxious.

“And why would you want those?” The man questioned, leaving the student at a loss.

“My father used to study here.” Ichigo blurted out. The man behind the desk just looked at him, expecting something else. Swallowing, Ichigo continued his improvised excuse, hoping it would stick. “He was thinking of doing a student reunion, but he wanted everyone from his year to attend, so... Hm, He kinda asked me if I could get a list of the students so that nobody got forgotten.”

“We can't do that, sorry. There is too much personal information within the University's records, so even if a long time has passed, it's not in our policy to just offer them like that.” The man said, shrugging when he saw Ichigo's defeated expression.

“I see...” He said, about to thank the man anyway when a woman's voice interrupted them from behind another desk.

“What about the yearbook?” She offered. The man paused, looking at Ichigo for a moment.

“How old was your father in 1986?” He asked.

“Twenty-two.” As Ichigo answered, the man stood up, signaling for him to wait and leaving the room.

The woman looked at him from behind her own desk, having heard the conversation. “We have some yearbooks from back then where all the students were listed and wrote something down under their names.”

“Like with high school seniors?” Ichigo asked, amused.

“More or less. They used to do it in their first year and again in their last. It was a fun little thing they had to check how much things changed.” She explained.

“How come they don't do it anymore?”

“The habit just died out. In my time they didn't do it anymore, and I'm not exactly young.” She said. “But it's amusing for us here to find those old things. They're very typical of the decade.”

The woman brought her focus back to the paperwork she'd been dealing with, and for a few minutes the room remained silent until the man came back with a yearbook in hand.

“I heard her explain this to you.” He begun, laying the book on the reception desk. “This is from 1982, but it should have most of the students of your father's class in it.”

“Is it okay to take it with me?” Ichigo asked with a pleased grin.

“Just bring it back in one piece. Nobody really looks for those nowadays.”

“Thank you very much.” Ichigo said, book held tightly in his trembling hands, anxious to open it.

 

* * *

   
Much to Ichigo's surprise, it didn't take very long for Grimmjow to return to the lounge room with a large phone book in his hands and a satisfied smirk on his face.

Ichigo had just finished updating Chad on his situation – and with much embarrassment, on his brand new potential-but-still-unsure love life – and had figured he would still have time to burn to take another look at the yearbook or call some other friends from back at his hometown. It would have to be postponed, it seemed.

“How did you get that so quickly?” He asked, much to the other's amusement.

“It's a phone book, not the Constitution.” Grimmjow answered. “So, did you see if it was her already?” He asked, noticing the year book on Ichigo's lap.

The other took it in his hands, opening it on a page he had marked with a post-it and showing it to Grimmjow. His finger pointed at a small photo of a young woman, with a soft smile and black hair dropping down her shoulders.

“That's her.” Ichigo said. “I was right, she's the one who's doing this.”

“Hm.” Grimmjow mumbled, not too surprised. “What about the other man, you never really told me his name.”

“It's also on that page,” Ichigo pointed again to another name starting with _K_. “Koufang Shawlong.”

The moment blue eyes fell on the photo, Grimmjow visibly tensed.

“What's wrong?” Ichigo asked again, having noticed the strange reaction. Whatever the reason for it, Grimmjow didn't want to share it.

“Nothing. Let's go to your room and look it up there. Too many people walk through here.” He spoke, standing up and taking the books in his arms, unconcerned with Ichigo's reluctance in going back.

Eventually, the younger man followed, hoping the fact that he wasn't going there alone would make things easier. He still couldn't brush off the impression that Grimmjow had been bothered when he saw the other man's photo, but there was just so much he avoided telling Ichigo that he settled for finding those things out as he went along.

Grimmjow entered his room as though he still owned it, flopping into the bed and opening the phone list in search for the man's name while Ichigo carefully took in his surroundings. Somehow, having put a face and a name to the cause of his dismay seemed to make things easier to bear, even if he still didn't feel like spending too much time inside the spartan room. His eyes joined Grimmjow's in their search for the name, until a few dozen pages later they found it.

“I'm going to call him...” Ichigo stated, grabbing his phone as Grimmjow left towards the window, cigarette already in his fingers.

Dialing the number, he waited, watchful of Grimmjow. Last time the man had been in his room, he stood happily staring down from the window, but now more than ever the thought of him so carelessly doing that bothered him. Even if the suicides happened at the room next door, he didn't want to see the other so close to a fall like that, and the fact Hinamori suffered the same death just one floor below them wasn't the least bit soothing.

It reminded him there was nowhere he could safely escape to.

After a few seconds, someone answered him from the other end of the line, startling him.

“Hello?” A mature, distinctly male voice answered.

“Is this Koufang Shawlong?” Ichigo asked, meeting Grimmjow's eyes.

“Is this from the cable company again, because this will be the third time I tell you I'm not interested--”

“No, no,” He interrupted. “My name is Kurosaki Ichigo, I'm a student at Karakura University.” When the line stayed silent, he continued. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

“About what...” The man asked, his tone weary, as though he already guessed what was coming.

“You made a statement in a newspaper some time ago, regarding someone's suicide--” Before Ichigo could finish, he was already interrupted.

“Look, I don't have time for this...”

“I really need to talk to you, please--” He pleaded, although the man continued to ignore him.

“I don't know what it is to you either, but I don't want you kids calling me over your Halloween stories or whatever it is you want.”

“I won't take much of your time, sir--”

“Don't contact this number again, or I will inform the University of what you're doing.”

“I live in that room.” Ichigo blurted out, hearing as the man on the line went silent.

“You what?” An answer finally came.

“I live in that room. I really need your help, please...” He pleaded.

It seemed like an eternity stretched between his words and a reply, but once it finally came, Ichigo let out a breath of relief.

“Come meet me in half an hour. Seireitei Street, number 11.”

“Thank you, I will be there. Thank you.”

Ending the call, Ichigo turned to Grimmjow with a wide smile.

“He gave me his address.” He informed him, although the other seemed distraught with his cigarette. However, Ichigo couldn't even be bothered with the smoke that filled the room. “I'm heading there now. Are you coming?”

“Sure.” Grimmjow shrugged, putting out his cigarette at the window box.

In a hurry, Ichigo grabbed his phone and looked up the street's location, deciding they would have to hurry up if they wanted to get there on time. He didn't look back at Grimmjow before rushing out of the door and going down the stairs, assuming the other would catch up.

Sure enough, Grimmjow was by his side right away, although his frown didn't hide the fact he didn't feel like running around and playing detectives like he was being forced to. Ichigo made a mental note to thank him by paying him a large cup of coffee, but in the midst of his excitement that could wait.

They were almost there when Grimmjow spoke.

“You do the talking. I need a cigarette.”

“Haven't you smoked enough for the day?” Ichigo frowned, seeing the other search his pockets before stopping in his tracks with a groan. “What is it?”

“I forgot them at your room.”

“Fuck the cigarettes, Grimmjow!” He snapped, unable to understand how the man could be thinking of those at a time like this.

“You keep going. I'll go get them quickly and meet you up at the guy's house.”

“Are you serious?” Ichigo wasn't even given an answer, as Grimmjow turned back and started a quick pace towards the opposite way. “And you're getting in there alone? You don't even have the keys!”

“I lived there long enough, Kurosaki, I know how to get the damned door open.” The older man snapped back. “Just get going, I wasn't even going to say anything anyway.”

With a groan, Ichigo watched the other go on his way, and did the same, too close to Koufang Shawlong's house to stop now.

Eventually he reached Seireitei street, the sky already darkening and the street lights being turned on, one by one. The neighborhood seemed quiet and peaceful, a typical suburb like what he'd more or less expect a middle aged man to live in.

House by house he searched for the number 11, finding it on a modern, western looking building with white walls and a clean, open garden.

“It's here...” He spoke to himself, walking to the front door and ringing the bell. A light lit inside the house, and a tall silhouette approached to answer the door.

When it finally opened, Ichigo stood face to face with a middle aged man, thin but elegant and groomed who nodded at him to get inside.

“Kurosaki, is it?” He asked as Ichigo took off his shoes and left them at the entrance.

“Yes. Thank you for letting me in.”

“It's alright. Would you like something to drink?”

“No, it's not needed, thank you.” He said, eyes roaming through the house as he was led to a large living room, decorated in a modern but minimalistic style. He sat on a large sofa with Shawlong, who rested his hands on his lap and spoke.

“I hope you are aware I don't usually talk about things that happened back then.” He started.

“I understand.” Ichigo spoke. “But it seemed like those I asked about it didn't have much knowledge of what exactly went on.”

“I see. I've heard a few urban legends about it, which is why I agreed to meet you.” Shawlong explained. “I understand that you live in there now?”

“Yes. My roommate is out of the country too, so I have the whole floor to myself.”

“Isn't there anyone else in it?” The older man asked, chuckling when Ichigo shook his head. “A lot of potential for trouble making then. I thought you would have been happier about that, being a young man, but you seem upset.”

“The stories might be getting to me.” Ichigo joked. He had no intentions of telling the other about what really happened to him.

“Tell me what you know.”

“There was a suicide, in room 49... Then a murder...” He hesitated as the older man urged him on. “The murder of a famous heiress or something like that. Not long after, someone else committed suicide in that room, and since then it seems like all the students who move there end up having the same fate.”

“That's more or less what happened. So what are your questions, exactly?” Shawlong wondered, his eyes studying the young man.

“The newspaper statement you gave, it said something about people's speculations on the case...”

“It got on my nerves at the time. I'm sure you've already realized one of the students who committed suicide was a friend of mine back then.” The man said, voice firm and making Ichigo want to apologize for bringing up the topic.

“The article did mention that, yes.”

“Perhaps it should interest you to know the first three cases are related to each other, then.”

It was a conclusion Ichigo had already reached, but there were too many loose pieces in the story that he couldn't put together without the other man's help. The newspapers mentioned Kuchiki's murder possibly being motivated by hate, and her manner of death had been reminiscent to the first suicide. Still, it had been the small comment accompanying Shawlong's statement for the second suicide that made him suspect the story had more to it than what met the eye.

“Yes... I thought of that when I read the article, but there was nothing else written down that would... explain why people had suspicions.”

“And you want to hear them.” It wasn't a question, but Ichigo nodded anyway, hoping the other man would tell him what had really happened all those years ago. “I'll indulge you, then.”

“Thank you.”

“My friend, the second person who committed suicide, had a bit of a fan always walking around him. His roommate.” Shawlong started, his expression seeming almost nostalgic as he thought back to a different decade of his life. “It was a bit pathetic really. The kid talked like him, dressed like him, pretty much tried to be just like him. Our little group always thought he was a nonsense, but I think our friend got a bit attached. The kid's name was DiRoy.”

“DiRoy...” Ichigo muttered, remembering that the article hadn't written down his name.

“DiRoy also had a little crush on the Kuchiki girl. It's one of those things where the girl smiled at him once and the kid automatically assumed they were meant to be.” Shawlong explained. “She was nice enough, you know? But she could only take so much of DiRoy's insistence before she had to make it very clear that she wasn't interested.”

“So she rejected him.”

“Pretty straightforward about it too. But DiRoy, he just didn't understand her. The kid felt cheated.”

Ichigo's eyes widened. “Do you think he's the one who...”

“No.” Shawlong interrupted him. “He didn't touch her. He went to his room and ended his own misery.”

“Then he was the first...”

“The first suicide, yes. On dorm room 49.” Shawlong sighed. “After that, Kuchiki got murdered in that same place. Nobody ever figured out who did it, but just a few days later, our other friend sneaked in there too and killed himself on the same spot.”

“The one with the pocket knife.” Ichigo commented, receiving a nod. Maybe that was why his death had been different from the others. It could have been caused by grief at his friend's suicide and not by the haunting.

“The reason I made that statement in the newspaper...” He hesitated before continuing. “Was because people started putting two and two together.” Ichigo looked at the older man. “My friend, he was brash and got into trouble often, and it was well known that he was very territorial. Many students started making up theories that he was the one who murdered Kuchiki as payback, that he resented her for leading his buddy to suicide.”

“Did you think there was a chance those theories were true?” Ichigo asked, and for a few seconds Shawlong looked down in silence, seeming to think of an answer.

“There wasn't any concrete evidence against him. He could have been capable of it, but...” Ichigo gave him a sympathetic look.

“Nobody wants to think their friends would do something like that...”

“Exactly. And either way he was gone too.”

“I'm very sorry.” He said, meaning those words.

“I don't think about how things ended anymore.” Shawlong smiled. “We had some good times too, that's what I'd rather remember. I still have some vivid memories of our little parties in that tiny room. We'd shove so many people in such a small spot, that I'm pretty sure both our neighbors hated us.”

“Both your neighbours?” Ichigo asked.

“Yes, rooms 48 and 50. They couldn't stop threatening to press charges.” Shawlong said, pausing when he noticed Ichigo's startled look. “What's wrong?”

“There isn't a room number 50, actually. It goes from 40 to 49.” Ichigo explained.

“Ah, right, back then the order was different. It was only a few years later after the murder happened that they restructured the residencies and changed the door numbers.”

“What...” Ichigo whispered, feeling suddenly numb.

“In my time, the floors had the doors 41 to 50. Room 49 then, should be the 48th now.”

No...

Ichigo felt as though his stomach suddenly dropped to the floor. That meant the storage room wasn't the problem.

His own room was.

The room Grimmjow went to on his own.

“I'm sorry, I have to go.” He mumbled, leaving Shawlong behind as he ran out of the house and into the streets. The older man's eyes widened, seeming to realize what had happened.

It was dark outside. He had talked for too long not knowing of the danger that Grimmjow was being subjected to. He ran, crossing the street carelessly and gaining himself a few angry drivers yelling at him.

He couldn't bring himself to care. He had to run, as fast as he could and more. He had to get to his room as soon as possible.

His breath was ragged and his legs were aching after long minutes of running when he finally spotted the tall buildings of the University in the distance. Gathering all his strength reserves, he sprinted forward into the residency, ignoring the receptionists' scolding look.

There was nobody around, all dorm rooms closed and quiet. Eerie. He felt like he was as loud as a thunderstorm by himself, his own heartbeat drumming at his ears, barely able to breathe.

When he reached the fourth floor and dashed to his dorm room's door, he found it closed, hands shaking too much as he tried to fit the key inside and slam it open. Once he finally did, there was nothing there to reassure him.

The window was open and the wind from outside chilled the interior. Grimmjow wasn't there. The pack of cigarettes he remembered seeing on the bed was gone, but Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen.

Ichigo's throat contracted as he walked towards the open window, and trembling he looked down at the concrete beneath it.

Nothing.

No body on the ground, no splatters of blood, no marks in the concrete.

No Grimmjow.

He was almost crying of relief when another chill hit his body, this time coming not from the window, but from inside the room.

Slowly, he turned around, towards the door he had left open in his hurry.

Once again everything blurred as he saw her, just as in the old yearbook's photograph.

The white dress, the long, soft looking black hair. It seemed almost impossible that a sight like that could do such horrible things, but the vertigo that struck him harder with her every step told otherwise.

“ _It's him..._ ” Her soft voice whispered, swimming in the air.

His legs lost all strength as he fell to the floor in front of the window. Ichigo didn't want to stand next to it. He didn't want to fall down the height he had just looked into.

“I didn't do it...” He whispered, as she came so agonizingly close it drove the air off his lungs. “Rukia...”

She knelt in front of him, reaching out to him with a frail arm. Where her fingers brushed against his chest, it felt cold, as though ice was piercing him.

Ichigo couldn't move, but as he met her eyes he was taken by confusion. He didn't understand.

Her soft voice whispered to him again, gray eyes looking terrified.

“ _Run!_ ”

The next thing he saw was blood.

After that, it was blue that filled his vision.

Ichigo's eyes were so wide they ached, his head pounding at what he saw.

A hand, twisting like a claw, bursting through the woman's torso as if it was Styrofoam.

The corners of his vision saw red splattered on his clothes.

Not his blood.

Hers.

Yet, his mind could barely process it.

Instead his brown eyes got lost in Grimmjow's deep blue, as the other man raised his arm and with it lifted the small body of whom Ichigo knew to be Kuchiki Rukia's. With a large wave he shoved her to the floor beside him like she was weightless, sliding his arm off her flesh with a sickening smirk.

Ichigo had never felt the way he did now. The sheer shock of seeing Grimmjow's bared teeth, fear rose in him from gazing at those predatory eyes... It felt like an impending death, like the air was heavy, like Grimmjow's very aura was brimming with static.

How could Ichigo have ever found him beautiful? What was happening? His head pulsed relentlessly, and his throat clenched as though he would throw up.

Grimmjow knelt down in front of him.

“You...” Ichigo's eyes widened.

Suddenly everything seemed clear, everything clicked.

_How old are you?_

Ichigo remembered Grimmjow's words, just mere days ago...

_It's not like people don't deserve some haunting if they made someone miserable enough to off themselves._

And he still couldn't believe it.

_Everything on how the murder was carried seems to indicate it was personally motivated_

No...

_I think our friend got a bit attached._

“It can't be...”

The phone rang, having been forgotten in his pocket.

“Answer it.” Grimmjow's deep voice reverberated through his skin as he leaned towards his neck, teeth grazing the tender flesh there. “I want your friend to hear.”

Ichigo couldn't breathe, frozen into silence as his phone blared through the room, ringing loudly in his ears.

“No...” His voice left his lips without him realizing it, and the teeth that had been just brushing against him bit down.

It hurt, not so much the bite but how cold it was. Every point of contact with Grimmjow felt like ice, as though his blood froze under the other's touches.

Grimmjow didn't ask again. His hand roamed beneath Ichigo's shirt, pressing against his abdomen, always cold.

Unbearably cold.

“I thought I told you loud and clear, Ichigo.”

Chilling lips pressed against his own, softly whispering against the sensitive skin.

“This used to be my room.”

 

* * *

   
“I swear to God!” Riruka snapped. “If that freaking douche doesn't answer his damn phone in 5 seconds, I'm going to go there and break it on his face myself!”

Her roommate mumbled in agreement, usually more patient but still pretty sick of the constant ringing from the room upstairs. It wasn't as though the two girls were being overly sensitive either. It was loud, it was endless, and it was very annoying to deal with at that time of the night.

Switching rooms to a dorm where a student had just jumped off the window? They could deal with that, for the traumatized girl who had to see her friend kill herself in front of her very eyes. Having to put up with an upstairs neighbor without any consideration for the people who lived close by? That was when patience started to wear out.

As the obnoxious ringtone continued to flare, Riruka jumped out of her bed in a fit, opening the door with all intentions of giving whoever lived above her a piece of her mind.

“I'd jump out of the window too if I had to put up with this long enough.” She mumbled as she moved over the steps in pairs, her shyer roommate moving behind her with a large bottle of water in hand – her improvised definition of a self defense weapon – just in case.

As they got into the hallway and followed the sound, they came across the only open ajar door of the floor, from which a small string of light hit the corridor.

Riruka glanced at the number 48 on the door and knocked first, although her displeasure wasn't voiced quite as politely.

“Hey, jackass! Shut your phone! People are trying to sleep, you know?” There was no reply, and unsure, she continued. “Some of us actually care about classes!”

Still nothing.

“Maybe nobody's home...” Her roommate suggested, not being able to shake off the feeling something was off, but having run out of patience, Riruka simply groaned and pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted them silenced them, leaving them paralyzed at the room's entrance.

The bottle the young woman had been holding was dropped to the floor with a loud thud, rolling across the carpeted surface as she screamed.

 

* * *

 

It was a feeling deep in his gut that Chad couldn't ignore that made him call Ichigo. It would only be a few more days for him to see his friend again, but for some inexplicable reason, everything in his head screamed at him to make contact with the other man.

He tried not to think of it much, but when he found his calls going unanswered over and over again, he started to really worry.

Apparently, he hadn't worried without reason.

The beeping of the hospital's monitors marked the minutes that passed. At that time, hours must have gone by, but Chad didn't intend on leaving his friend's side.

Nobody knew what happened, nobody heard anything besides his phone ringing through the night, but when someone went to their room they found Ichigo sprawled on the floor by the window, pouring out blood like he was a fountain.

The gash on his abdomen was deep, and the blood that he lost was enough to kill, but whether out of strength or sheer willpower, Ichigo had survived the ordeal.

However, he still hadn't woken up.

Common friends of theirs had visited everyday since they found out what happened, and his family seemed inconsolable, Ichigo's father dropping by his room as much as his job as a doctor allowed him. Still, Chad couldn't force himself to tell them about what had been happening.

It wasn't his story to share anyway. Ichigo would wake up, and he would explain everything himself.

Chad was certain of it.

A knock at the door woke him from his thoughts, and he looked at it to find a nurse peeking, hoping for permission. He nodded at her, which she took as consent. On her arms she carried Ichigo's backpack and a few folders seemingly overflowing with papers.

“This was at his room, some of his friends brought it here in case he wants them when he wakes up.” She explained with a smile, leaving the belongings on the bedside table and quietly walking away.

Chad had a guess as to what the paperwork was, and as he held it, he had his suspicions confirmed. There was no such thing as class notes in there, just newspapers clippings and photocopies of different articles. In his notebook, a few names had been written out.

 _Kuchiki Rukia, Koufang Shawlong_.

He remembered Ichigo telling him about those names and the conclusions he had gotten into. The last time he had heard from him, his friend had been trying to contact the man whose name he wrote down, hoping it would help him connect the dots of what had been happening.

Chad told that to the police, omitting as much as he could, needing to make sure it wasn't that very man who did that to his friend. As Shawlong had been taken into questioning, he confirmed that Ichigo had indeed visited him, but left in a hurry and without explanation. Nothing pointed out to that man being responsible for what happened, and knowing that was unsettling.

Still, Ichigo was alive. At the very least he hadn't become one more tragedy to report.

Ichigo had been a victim to something that was possibly involved in countless deaths, but he hadn't been killed.

The steady heartbeat of his friend soothed him, reminding him it was just a matter of time until he woke up, and with that thought he picked up the yearbook that had been delivered to him along with his other belongings.

A page for the letter _K_ was bookmarked, filled with students' names, photos, and even a small signature sentence beneath each picture, much like a typical high school yearbook. The first name to catch his attention was Kuchiki Rukia's.

The photo showed a young woman, with a soft smile and long black hair that fell pleasantly on her shoulders. Under that photo, she had written down a light note: “ _In Chappy we trust!_ ”

It was strange to see such a happy expression knowing what would happen to her later in her life.

No photo particularly stood out though, all of the students looking content and decade appropriate – an old age when mullets were thought to be befitting, and the bigger the haircut, the better.

He flipped back to previous page, moving from the letter K to the J, and suddenly he froze.

Right there, the face of the blue haired man he and Ichigo saw on their first day was grinning back at him, completely identical, from the gelled up hair to the jacket he wore.

Impossible...

His lips parted as he read the name tag of the student, the sinking feeling on his stomach deepening with each word.

 _“Jaegerjaquez Grimmjow”_  
_“Get on my good side, and you'll live longer.”_

 

 

 


	5. Extra Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see for this fic.  
> I'm so happy with all the great feedback I got for this short story. I got a few questions on things I didn't went through with much detail, and it made me wonder if I should write a little extra chapter to just acknowledge them... so I did!
> 
> I did a while back, actually, but I didn't know if I should post it or not, because I liked ending the story where it did, and felt like anything else wouldn't add much to it. But I'm posting it now anyway, because /it has been written/ and I owe it to everybody who asked if there was more in their kind reviews.
> 
> It shifts away from the horror type a bit, but I hope you like this tiny bit anyway.

When the familiar lips caressed his neck, they were no longer freezing.

The body pressed against him was warm, but dominating, trapping him against the bed with effortless resilience. If Ichigo had  bothered to struggle, he would have found it fruitless, but he didn’t. He laid there, impassive, letting himself be tasted, his mind running through too many things at once to let him focus on the nips and kisses at his skin.

That didn’t deter Grimmjow, who hovered over him with a busy mouth and a gentle hold on Ichigo’s sides, his blunt nails softly scratching against his torso, far too lightly to hurt.

He didn’t know how he ended up there. He didn’t even know where “there” was, just that it was a small bed in a dimly lighted room. Everything else blurred like tunnel vision, a nauseating and permanent motion of Grimmjow’s body undulating as he traveled further down Ichigo’s own,

From, the neck, to the tanned chest, and finally stopping at his stomach.

It didn’t even look like his abdomen with the ugly scar that graced it, the same jagged stitching that Grimmjow now nibbled on, as if he wanted it back open.

“Stop…” He muttered, and for some reason Grimmjow heeded to his plea.

Backing away from Ichigo, the other man laid down on his back beside him with a smirk on his face. It didn’t make the vertigo stop, and it didn’t ease the nausea Ichigo felt, but at the very least he stopped feeling like a prey being devoured alive.

“Am I even alive?” The question left his lips weakly, more of a self contemplation than looking for a concrete answer, but Grimmjow answered him anyway.

“Yes.”

“How? How did you…”

“The more you believe me, the more power you grant me.” Grimmjow spoke, leaning over Ichigo once again, fixing his bright blue eyes on dull brown.

Or was the brown just alive, and the blue supernatural?

“Had you just ignored those feelings, and they would have gone away… But it’s easier said than done, isn’t it?” The spirit continued, a cold hand brushing against orange strands of hair. “I’m neither here nor there. I can touch but I can’t feel, I can eat but I cannot taste… I want but I can’t have. There is no worse punishment.”

“Good.”

Not a moment after Ichigo uttered that lone word, his neck was being held in a tight grip, the half lidded eyes of Grimmjow widened into a mad blue.

“Yeah? What about I just finish what I started?”

“Why dont you?” Ichigo rasped his own challenge, and the tight grip losened.

“I don’t know, Kurosaki. Tell me, why am I the one feeling haunted here?”

The young man faced away from Grimmjow, eyes trying to focus on anything else but the body above him. He took a few deep breaths, just enough to calm down and allow his eyes to decipher his surroundings.

The blurred haze turned into something more recognizable: a hospital room, and next to him a screen showcasing his unmoving pulse. But he wasn’t dead. The line of his heartbeat stopped at a peak, as though that very moment was frozen in time.

On top of a small bedside table, a still clock confirmed it.

“You were lucky your friend had such a great sixth sense. If he hadn’t kept calling you, nobody would have found you until it was too late.” Grimmjow muttered against Ichigo’s ear, softly. “You would have died just like me…”

“Why did you do that…” Ichigo mumbled, still refusing to see the other’s eyes staring down at him, pushing back a strange feeling of betrayal.

“I know you felt those little butterflies on your stomach.” Grimmjow said, like a cruel taunt. “I felt something too, but I wouldn’t call it butterflies.”

The spirit’s hand reached to grasp Ichigo’s chin, forcing him to look.

“Every day after I burst open that Kuchiki bitch’s skull on your little bedroom window, there was that nauseous feeling on the pit of my stomach, that made me want to throw up.” The blue haired man continued.

“I was never one for morale, but I guess even a guy like me had a voice near my ear telling me what  I should or shouldn’t be doing. Tended to shut it up for the most part, and usually it worked out just fine. It’s funny, I always thought a conscience was something you’d _feel_ in your head, but mine was that obnoxious discomfort down there.”

Brown eyes were once again fixed on blue, wide and unsure at the confession of sorts.

“So I put an end to it. And now here I am, right where I want to be. Isn’t death grand?”

Ichigo moved, trying to struggle against the other’s heavy body and failing, simply being roughly pushed back into the mattress.

“I wonder if all those little butterflies left through that hole before they sewed you back up.” Grimmjow murmured against the other man’s lips. “Or if there’s still any inside.”

“Fuck you…” The younger man responded, twitching away from the other’s lips.

“I think there might be some. Maybe I should rip you open again and let them all out. What do you think, Kurosaki? Would I be doing you a favor?”

“Don’t touch me.” Ichigo groaned again, a hopeless request when Grimmjow insisted on pressing his body against his, possessive, disrespectful, almost intimate.

“But you like being touched. You are so predictable, Kurosaki… The way you ran after me as though _you_ could save me, really made my shriveled plum of a heart beat.”

“Fuck you!” Ichigo snapped again, his brain scrambling for a better response, although the sentiment was already well shown. “I trusted you, I cared about you, and you lied to me. You turned me into a part of your little cat and mouse game for fun!”

“Now, now, don’t be so offended I hurt your feelings. I do like you, Kurosaki… So I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Just let me go.” Ichigo ordered, trying and failing to speak in a calm tone. “I see you for who you really are now. And I sure as hell didn’t like you enough then to make excuses for you now–”

The request wasn’t even acknowledged.

“The times you touched me were the first times I felt warmth in decades. You made me _feel_ redeemable _,_ and now you’re trying to tell me that was a lie?”

Ichigo choked on his words, falling into a stunned silence.

“I just want that sensation for as long as I can. It doesn’t matter if I’m pushing my luck, so as long as it’s still there.” Grimmjow continued, his hands trailing up Ichigo’s sides, letting his hips press onto the other’s.

His lips fell closer to Ichigo’s own, murmuring against their tender, soft skin.

“I will haunt you until you stop loving me, and when you do, I will end you, Kurosaki.”

.

.

.

Brown eyes slowly opened in a white room, filled with the beeping of a monitor and bright sunlight that entered through a large window to his left.

“Ichigo?” A low, soothing voice called for him, awakening him fully.

“Chad?” Ichigo spoke in a raspy, unused voice, finally noticing his tall friend sitting by his side with a concerned expression.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, with a quiet smile on his face.

“I feel alright.”

He didn’t even know where to start explaining. All he knew was that he didn’t want to worry his friend any further than he already did.

Ichigo let his fingers brush against his own stomach, feeling bandages and the outline of stitches across the skin.

“You were out for a while.” Chad said, while reaching out for the button on his bedside that called for a nurse.

Following his movements, Ichigo noticed a familiar pile of paperwork on his friends lap.

The past few weeks really had happened, and the sudden realization that he was indeed in a hospital bed, with a very real gash on his stomach struck him.

"Those," He nodded towards his notes. “Did you find anything…”

“Yes.”

“You look like you know exactly what happened.” Ichigo offered a weak smile, which Chad returned.

“Is it over, at least?”

“I don’t think so.”

"Will you be okay?"

"Yeah." Ichigo murmured, looking at his side to find a conglomerate of boxes and flowers. “Are those for me?”

Chad smiled once again, unconvincingly and guarded, like a man resolved not to let his friend get hurt again.

“We figured you’d need all the cheering up in the world. You’ll have chocolate cake for the ages.”

Ichigo hadn’t meant to let his mind travel when he heard that, but he was dazed and tired, and still only half aware of things. Last time he received cake, was by the same person who tried to kill him, and the memory of said person was far too fresh.

As though he had _just_ spoken to them.

“Chad… While I was out, did you see anything?” He hesitantly asked.

“No. Why?”

“I think I had a strange dream.” Ichigo half-explained with a lie, and an obvious one from the way he still felt his lips swollen, like he had been kissed.

The two didn’t say anything else before the nurse entered the room with a happy face, pleased her patient had woken up.

The only road forward was the road to recovery now, but still Ichigo couldn’t forget the last words whispered into his mouth, as if breathing a thought into him, and he couldn’t shake off the sensation that if they had been true, then Grimmjow would never leave him be.

Because there was indeed a fluttering in his stomach beyond the ache of his wound, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

 

 


End file.
